Shadows of the Past
by TheGingerAvenger
Summary: Previously Dark Shadows: When Jakob Grimm's journal falls into Sabrina's hands, she uncovers a web of secrets that entangles her ancestor, a boy, a magical book, a powerful amulet, and a creature with a dark vendetta against the humans. Can she solve the clues of the past in time to save her future? Sequel to Bittersweet Ending
1. Prologue

**A/N-**

**This is the sequel to Bittersweet Ending. For those of you who haven't read Bittersweet Ending, I would suggest reading that before you read this or else some parts in this story might not make sense.**

**The story, just like Bittersweet, takes place in the 7th book somewhere between when Briar Rose died and before they entered the Book of Everafters. This means that they don't know who the Master is, or anything about the Book of Everafters.**

**Rated T for some violence.**

**Disclaimer - As much as I wish it were true, I do not own the Sisters Grimm. It all belongs to Micheal Buckley and he's not sharing. :)**

**Some of the characters may be OOC at times, but I'll try my best. Hope you like it!**

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><p><em>~September 20, 1863~<em>

The candle flickered, illuminating the figure of a man bent over a desk, pen in hand. The wavering flame caused the shadows to dance and twirl along the walls of the small room.

The man froze, his pen inches away from the paper, terror tightening his muscles. Had he just heard something? He strained his ears, desperately trying to hear something over the thunder that rumbled warningly overhead.

There, voices. He carefully peeked out of the small window above his desk, gripping his pen in a white-knuckled hand. At first all he could see was the cobblestone street outside, flanked on both sides by thin, two story brick buildings and covered in shadows that could hide an army of monsters, and then he saw the group of men. He relaxed slightly, watching as the men hurried down the street, eager to get home before the rain fell, their drunken laughter easily penetrating the thin walls of his home.

He watched as they looked towards his house, poking each other and pointing to the direction of his home. They shouted obscene words in his direction and one even spat in his yard, to the raucous laughter of his companions.

But why wouldn't they do that? He was Jakob Grimm after all. Protector of the monsters.

Jakob leaned back in his seat, trying to ignore the shadows the danced in his peripheral vision, taking on the shapes of monsters with long, reaching hands.

Those men were clueless if they thought the Everafters who used to walk those streets were monsters.

Subconsciously, Jakob's hand reached up, his fingers brushing the amulet that hung around his neck.

No, there were much worse things out there.

Jakob closed his eyes and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. He was acting like a child who was afraid of his own shadow. But he had plenty of reason to be afraid of shadows.

He opened his eyes and stared at his hand, shaking more from terror than from old age. It hadn't escaped him how he seemed to age slower than those around him. His bones ached less, only a few winkles etched his face and his hair only had a few strands of grey in it. At first he had thought it was a side effect from spending so much time around magic, but in his last letter Wilhelm had been complaining about his old age and how his aching bones were keeping him from the doing the things that needed to be done.

So, maybe it was something else. Jakob stared at the amulet around his neck. In the morning it was a pleasant rose red, but now, in the quickly dimming light, it looked as dark as blood.

Jakob shook his head and forced his pen to paper, focusing on the task at hand.

_**I am delighted to hear that the Everafters are adjusting to the land well, though it does not surprise me that Charming has immediately taken command. That man always had to be the center of attention.**_

The soft scratch of pen on paper soon soothed his frayed nerves and all thoughts of monsters and shadows fled to the back of his mind.

_**I am also glad to hear that the Book of Everafters has worked out. Maybe now the Everafters will not be so upset about the barrier.**_

Jakob paused as thoughts of the barrier flashed through his mind. He had to admit, the barrier idea was brilliant but, out of all the witches, had Wilhelm really had to make a deal with Baba Yaga?

He shivered, thinking back to the last time he had seen the Hag of the Hills.

She had sneered at him, her teeth crooked and yellow, her gray hair sticking out everywhere, but her eyes had been the things that had disturbed him the most. Yes, they were crazed but, underneath all the craziness, they were filled with a deep, ancient intelligence that had filled him with fear.

"_You and that brother of yours seem to enjoy messing with things that don't belong to your kind." She had whispered, abruptly stopping her threats of eating him alive. "Magical things. You especially seem to love experimenting with magic. Beware, magic can be a curse." Her lips cracked into a wicked grin. "And it will destroy you and everything you love."_

A sharp crack of thunder jolted Jakob out of his memory and left him gasping in shock.

His hand tightened into a fist and his mouth set into a thin line of determination. Magic was not going to destroy everything he loved, not if he could help it.

_**Truthfully, I had feared that the book wouldn't work.**_

A straight lie but he didn't want to explain everything to his little brother, at least not yet.

Jakob's eyes traveled to the book that rested on the small table beside the door. Even from across the room he could feel the magic rolling off of it, and the amulet seemed to jerk, as if it knew what lay between the pages of that book.

A woman's familiar face flashed inside his head. Wisps of dirty blonde hair that had escaped her tight bow fell around her face. Her trousers and rough shirt were out of place among the dresses women seemed to favor, not to mention the array of weapons that hung from her belt. Her bright hazel eyes regarded him with a nonchalant look that barely concealed the longing underneath.

_"Whatever needs to be done." _She had whispered.

He had known that the Book of Everafters would work perfectly.

_**I fear I won't be able to visit any time soon. Things have gotten . . . difficult.**_

_**I am sending over two books. Two very important books and it is crucial that you keep both of them safe.**_

_**One is a magical book; you will know it when you touch it. I can not explain how, but that book is tied to the Book of Everafters. If one is damaged, so is the other. If one is destroyed, so is the other. You must keep it hidden, but hidden away from the Book of Everafters and no one, not even your family, is to know of its existence.**_

_**The other book is my journal. You should only read it when the other book falls into the wrong hands. It will tell you everything you need to know. But you **__**must not **__**open it unless it is**__**absolutely**__**necessary.**_

Jakob made sure to underline those words. He knew his nosey little brother would be tempted more than once to open the journal.

_**Please, do not fear for me. I know all this sounds confusing and even I don't understand some of it, but I am a Grimm, and we Grimms tend to dive headfirst into danger.**_

_**It's what we do.**_

He paused again, and stared down at the paper, overwhelmed with a sudden, heart-wrenching grief.

_**I want you to know that I have enjoyed every one of our crazy, harebrained adventures and, even though I had complained a lot, I really did not mind you forcing me to write everything down while you flirted with every princess within a mile.**_

_**I also want you to know that, yes, that purple shirt of yours does make you look like an overgrown plum.**_

_**I love you, brother.**_

_**Your dearest brother,**_

_**Jakob Grimm**_

Jakob stared down at the letter as thoughts of his brother ran through his mind. Will he ever be able to see Wilhelm again?

He pictured his brother's face as Wilhelm waved goodbye from the ship as it left for America. How many times had Jakob felt that staying here had been a mistake? How many times had he wished that he had said yes and gone with his brother to America?

But what's been done has been done and there was no changing it, no matter how badly he desired a chance to go back and change everything.

Jakob quickly folded the paper in half and shoved it into the envelope. He had to hurry if he didn't want to get drenched by rain. Besides, who knew how long his messenger was going to wait for him?

He stood up, walked over to the small table and picked up the two books, trying to ignore the tingling desire that ran up his arm when he touched the magic book.

Jakob paused, his hand lingering on the doorknob, and looked towards his small bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, so he could only see a bit of the person sleeping in the bed.

A pang of guilt stabbed through him and once again he wondered if what he had done had been right. True he had saved a life, probably only to just destroy it, and yet, who was he to play God? And how will the boy react when he wakes up and finds out what's been done to him?

Jakob took a deep breath and shook his head. There was no point in worrying over his decision now. Worrying won't change anything.

He opened the door and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. A cold breeze cut through his jacket like a knife, coating his skin in goose bumps. He tucked the books and letter under his arm and stared up at the sky. A thick blanket of dark grey storm clouds churned above his head, threatening to pour rain on him at any second.

Jakob swiftly walked down his porch steps and started to make his way towards the docks. The streets were empty; everyone was holed up inside their homes to avoid the storm. The deserted, shadow covered streets just fueled his fear.

He made sure to stay underneath the comforting glow of the streetlamps, constantly looking over his shoulder, and whenever he came across a dark spot he practically ran until another streetlamp bathed him in a yellow glow.

By the time the docks came into view, he was coated with a fear induced, cold sweat and was gasping for breath. The soft slap of water and low rumbling of thunder mixed with the sound of his heavy breathing as he desperately scanned the dock for his messenger.

Jakob frantically looked around the docks twice before he saw the large raven resting on the end of a pier, the bird's black feathers easily blending in with the dark surroundings.

Relief bursting inside him, Jakob quickly made his way to the bird, stone road changing to wooden platforms under his feet.

The Raven looked up as he came closer and squawked in disapproval. "Took you long enough." The bird's glittery eyes regarded his pale demeanor curiously. "What's wrong? Afraid of a little storm?"

"Oh, no." Jakob smiled grimly. "That's not what I am afraid of." He looked up at the sky and frowned. "Are you sure you can fly all the way to America?"

The Raven squawked and ruffled her feathers irritably. "Of course I can! Though I wish you had hurried up. Flying in rain does not please me."

"I apologize for the inconvenience." Jakob said. "I was not aware of the weather. But I do appreciate your willingness to help me, that is, if you are still willing. I do not want to pressure you into doing something you wish not to do."

The Raven rolled her eyes. "You Grimms always had a way with words. Hand it over."

Jakob smiled, glad that she was still willing to fly to America. He didn't think he could have waited another day.

He handed the giant bird the letter and the magical book. His fingers lingered on the book a moment too long and he forced himself to release it when the Raven looked at him with curiosity.

"You keep strange company for a man who has supposedly separated himself from our kind." The Raven cocked her head, her beady eyes narrowing. "First dragons, and now me. What are you up to, Grimm?"

"Make sure it goes straight to my brother and no one else." Ignoring her question he held his journal out to her. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and a cold chill prickled between his shoulder blades. He spun around and gasped, fear immobilizing him.

Standing in the shadows was a barely perceptible shape of a human, a blotch of shadows darker than the night. Though someone couldn't visibly determine if the person was female or male, Jakob knew it was a man. And Jakob knew who . . . _what_ he was.

Lightning flashed, a silvery streak that sliced through the dark sky. The flash lit up the dock like it was daylight, and the man disappeared.

The lightning diminished, plunging the dock into darkness again. Over the answering thunder, Jakob heard the Raven shriek in fright. He spun around just as the bird took to the air, frantically flapping her wings. His journal, which had been in both her claws and his hand, fell into the dark water with a plop.

Completely oblivious, Jakob turned and ran; fear giving him a speed he never knew he had as the storm clouds above seemed to decide to skip the sprinkle and pour rain onto him. He raced down the street, slipping on the now wet road, running faster whenever he left the safety of the streetlamps' light and was forced to run into darkness.

A half choked sound of fear escaped from his mouth just as his foot caught on a stone. Jakob sprawled onto the hard cobblestone road, the rocks painfully scraping his palms and knees. He quickly scrambled to his feet and half limped, half ran under a streetlight.

He leaned back against the pole, gasping for breath as his eyes frantically scanned the shadows for any sign of movement. His heart leaped in fear when he saw two eyes, somehow darker than the air around him, staring at him from the edge of the light.

"_Give it to me." _A voice as cold as ice hissed.

Jakob shook his head, his whole body shaking in fear. "No."

"_GIVE IT!" _A patch of shadow suddenly lunged forward, eyes and mouth just holes in the darkness.

Jakob screamed and pushed away from the streetlamp, racing down the street towards his home. He knew no matter how loud he screamed, no one would come out and help. They would just look out their windows to see him running from some invisible monster and think that he'd finally lost the little sense he had left.

A furious, inhuman scream echoed behind him as he ran up his steps and burst into his home. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, his heart pounding loudly inside his chest.

This was it. There was no denying that. He had gotten himself into this mess and there was no way he was going to get out of it.

Jakob could feel it coming, a coldness covered his skin as it got closer, and then his eyes landed on the open bedroom door.

_No!_ Panic filled him and Jakob lunged across the room, closing the door just as the shadows in his house grew darker.

Jakob backed up, standing as close to the candle as he could.

"_Nowhere to run now."_

The voice echoed around the room, oddly faint.

"It's consuming you, isn't it?" Jakob whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. "The curse."

"_Yess." _The word came out sounding like the sigh of a dying man.

"If you don't get it tonight, it'll be too late." Jakob's hand flew up to his throat and he grasped the amulet, power flooding through him. "Well, you're not getting it. Not while I'm alive."

"_Ahh, but you won't be alive for long."_

Jakob took a step back. "But you forget about the amulet's power." He tired to put confidence in his voice but it came out covered in fear. "You're cursed and as long as I'm wearing it, it won't let you anywhere near me."

A soft chuckle echoed around the room, sending shivers down the man's spine.

"_But I don't have to touch you to kill you. I don't even have to come near you."_

Before Jakob could say anything, a streak of shadow shot out from the dark like a bullet, hitting him square in the chest and knocking him against the desk.

Jakob let out a gasp of surprise and fell to the floor, clutching at his chest. An unbearably cold feeling had settled inside of his chest, it felt like his insides were made out of ice.

"What did you do?' Jakob gasped and scanned the shadows that waited behind the measly ring of light the candle provided until he saw him, a much darker shape crouched amidst the shadows.

"_Tell me, Jakob." _Cruel amusement filled the voice and Jakob could feel the smirk on the monster's face. "_How can you live if you can't breathe?"_

Suddenly the cold feeling in his chest wrapped around his lungs, squeezing them in an icy grip that squashed out all the air. Jakob gasped but no air would come in. His eyes widened in panic and pain as the crushing feeling in his chest intensified.

"You'll . . . never. . . find . . . the others." He painfully gasped.

Another chuckle filled the air and the dark shape moved, as if cocking its head at him. "_I wouldn't be so sure about that. Thanks to you, I have an eternity to look for them."_

Jakob collapsed on the floor, tears leaking out of his eyes, his hands clutching at empty air. It felt like a Jabberwocky was sitting on his chest, squashing his bones and forcing the air out of his lungs.

_Wilhelm. _His mouth moved but no sound came out. His brother's face flashed before his eyes and he prayed that his little brother was safe. A hazy darkness shrouded his vision and he felt his body go weak. His brother's face was replaced by the blonde woman's and Jakob felt a sorrow, greater than the pain that crushed his chest, fill him, a sorrow for words not said. Another face flashed in his vision, this one much younger than the rest and guilt replaced the sorrow.

_I'm sorry_ Jakob mouthed and then the life seeped out of his eyes, leaving them blank and staring.

A cold laughter filled the air as the candle's flame burned out, plunging the room in shadows.

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><p><strong>AN- Just a little warning, it might take me about a week to update new chapters. I really want this story to be good, so I'm trying to take my time writing the chapters.**

**Please review! Helpful criticism is accepted, hateful words are not. =D**


	2. An Unexpected Surprise

**A/N- I know, it's been more than a week and I'm sorry. I ended up writing a ton of different versions of this chapter, but hopefully, you'll like this one.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You guys are so sweet! =D I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who gets annoyed with the summary space! =)**

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><p><em>~148 years later~<em>

He ran through the trees, shoving branches and leaping logs in his hurry to get away. The long twigs and thorns grabbed at his thin, rectangular body like grasping fingers trying to hold him back. The card soldier's heart pounded in his ears, his lungs burned and his legs began to turn to jelly and yet he still pushed himself, fueled by blind fear, until he just couldn't move any more.

The card soldier, a five of diamonds, spun around, his brown eyes scanning the forest, already regretting having dropped his sword. Large tree trunks bloomed from the ground all around him, the thick trunks stretching high into the sky, the tops swaying slightly in the breeze.

The card soldier took a few steps back, trying to quiet his gasping breaths. Cold sweat rolled down his face in small rivers. He swiped at the salty liquid with a trembling hand before it could get into his eyes, and gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. He cursed himself for his stupidity as his eyes frantically scanned the forest for any signs of movement, his muscles tense and ready to propel him away from danger.

Why, out of all the people, had he pointed his weapon at _him?_ Everyone knows you stay out of his way! And yet, for a brief, stupid second, the card soldier had decided to be more afraid of Mayor Heart than him.

A cold shiver ran down his spin and panic twisted his gut. Was it really his fault? He was just following Mayor Heart's orders! He would have pointed that sword at anyone! _He_ just happened to come along.

The card soldier gulped again and tried to force out all the stories that surrounded the man as he strained his ears, trying to listen for any sounds.

A deceptive sense of tranquility had settled over the forest of Ferryport Landing. Stepping under the trees' interlocking branches, a person who didn't know better would have believed it was just like every other forest.

The soft, soothing sound of a wave filled the forest as the trees' leaves rustled in the cool breeze. A few of the leaves had broken away from the branches and were slowly floating to the ground, spinning in lazy circles. The sunlight that managed to break through the thick canopy of leaves fell to the ground in bright, golden streaks, glinting off the varying red, gold, and orange leaves and covering the forest floor in splotches of light and shadow.

The scenery, coupled with the sweet tittering of birds, added to the false sense of peace and made the frantic beating of the card soldier's heart slow down.

_Maybe he hadn't gotten angry_. The card soldier thought, relief bursting through him. _Maybe I had just freaked out over nothing_.

The soldier turned around . . . and screamed.

A tall man was leaning casually against a tree, eyeing the soldier through disconcertingly pale blue eyes. His whole wardrobe was completely black, a sharp contrast to his icy pale skin. With the grace of a cat, he pushed himself away from the tree trunk, his predatory gaze never leaving the soldier. His long black coat billowed slightly behind him, the fabric shifting and curling slightly, as if it was made out of black smoke instead of cotton.

With his scream still echoing in his ears, the card soldier took a stumbling step back, the whites of his eyes gleaming with terror and his mouth gaping open like a fish. His eyes traveled down to the amulet that hung around the man's neck, the only color on him, standing out like a flash of blood against the dark fabric of his shirt. For some reason, the sight of that blood red amulet paired with those heartless blue eyes sent all the horror stories that surrounded that man crashing into the soldier's brain, sending the human sized card over the edge of sanity.

Another scream erupted from his mouth and he turned to run.

A soft sigh of annoyance blew past the other man's lips and he lifted a lazy, pale hand. He pointed it at the soldier and a streak of shadow shot off the ground and flew through the air like a bullet, nailing the solder in the throat.

With a gurgled cry, the soldier flew through the air and slammed into a tree trunk with rib cracking force. He slid against the rough bark to collapse onto the ground. The soldier gasped as an icy coldness wrapped around his windpipe, squeezing until it was impossible to force air into his lungs. The card soldier's mouth gaped in a futile attempt to force air past the crushing coldness and into his aching lungs.

The card soldier clutched at his throat, his eyes wide with fear. His head had started to pound painfully and his lungs felt like they were on fire. He closed his eyes, tears leaking past his closed eyelids, when something nudged him in the side. He forced his eyes open; his mouth moving in hope that air might flow in, and stared at the clean black boot as it connected with his side again.

The pain in his side was a welcome distraction to the increasing pain in his throat and lungs. The card soldier's eyes traveled past the boot, up the leg it was connected to, until they were staring into the pair of icy blue eyes of the man standing over him.

"It's really not wise to point weapons at people." The man's voice was low and velvety smooth. It forced its way past the blood roaring in the card soldier's ears and demanded the card soldier's undivided attention. "And then to run away without apologizing." The man tsked and shook his head, a smile curling one side of his lips. "Some people could get very offended."

The card soldier nodded his head frantically, as if to say he was sorry. His boots scuffed up the slightly dying grass as he tried to press himself into the tree's trunk, trying to get as far away from the man as possible.

"But there is a way to redeem yourself." The man cocked his head to the side and regarded the soldier like he was some interesting cockroach and his blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Where's the Hag?"

The card soldier ripped a trembling hand away from his throat and pointed to the left. The man followed the pointing finger to see an overgrown path winding its way through the trees.

He looked back down at the dying soldier and smiled a smile completely devoid of warmth. A chocking wheeze escaped the soldier's mouth and he stared up at the man, brown eyes pleading.

"Oh, you want me to stop?" The man asked to the frantic nodding of the card soldier.

The gentle sound of birds singing filled the air as the man crouched down till his face was just inches away from the card soldier's sweaty one. The card soldier watched as the man's pale blue eyes began to darken and change. In a split second the man's irises were pitch black stained with wisps of red, a red identical to the amulet pulsing around his neck.

"Since you've been so helpful," The man's voice was a cold whisper that numbed the soldier's heart into a beating ball of fear, "I'll stop."

The man stood up, watching relief flood the soldier's face, and snapped his fingers. The harsh sound was drowned out by an even louder, sicker sound. The card soldier immediately stopped moving, his neck twisted in a grotesque position.

The man turned around and made his way towards the path, not once looking back at the card soldier slumped against the tree. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and leisurely began to make his way down the path, his footsteps silent despite the leaves and twigs that littered the floor.

The shadows that clung to the trees seemed to stretch out to him, long black tendrils that twisted and snaked across the floor in an attempt to touch him. But the man ignored them, keeping his icy blue eyes locked onto the road ahead.

He had never liked those annoying card soldiers, or that pompous mayor and her stupid sheriff. Actually, he didn't care for the whole lot of Everafters and their ridiculous war.

The corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk. A war he couldn't care less about as long as he got what he came for.

"OOOOH, HHAAAAG! WWWWHHEEEERREE ARREEEE YOOOUU?"

The sing-songy scream cut through the relative peace of the forest like a knife. The man looked up just in time to see a flash of pink wings and a ratty sneaker disappear through the canopy of leaves. He gazed up at the slightly swaying branches, listening to the quickly receding sound of flapping wings, before his icy gaze drifted down to see . . .nothing.

A small clearing rested in front of him, the trees standing at a respectful distance around the plot of ground. But that's all it was, a pile of dead grass and dirt.

The man's blue eyes narrowed. Unless . . .

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again they were coal black. He grinned, his eyes flickering with cold amusement, when he saw what really sat in the clearing.

A ramshackle house slouched miserably in the middle of a gate made completely out of white bones. With peeling paint and rotted wood, the house looked like it had just barely survived the apocalypse, but he knew one of the most powerful witches lived inside.

The red amulet around his neck pulsed a bright red, as if it could tell it was closer to being reunited with its brothers.

_You'll never find the others._

The man grinned. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Jakob."

. . .

Flying, Sabrina decided, was exhilarating. Well, it was exhilarating when you weren't being chased by something that wanted to kill you which, sadly, happened to her a lot.

The magic carpet soared over the forest, flying barely above the multicolored tree tops. Sabrina stared down in wonder at the sight beneath her. A sea of red, gold, orange and brown leaved trees stretched out for as far as you could see, making the forest of Ferryport Landing look more breathtaking than the usual spooky.

Sabrina closed her eyes, her hair whipping out behind her. The slightly chilly wind covered her skin in a light coating of goose bumps. Lately the days have gotten colder, but it wasn't cold enough just yet for her to put on a jacket.

A strange smoky smell hit her, filling her nostrils. Sabrina opened her eyes and stared down at the carpet, tracing the intricate patterns that twisted and swirled across the magical rug instead of looking up to see the thing she had flown across town to see.

The rug slowly started to dip down and Sabrina felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She couldn't remember why she had wanted to come back here. Why she had the crazy whim to go back to that place of horror.

A golden strand of blonde hair blew across her face and she slowly tightened her hands into fists. She remembered why she had wanted to come. She had wanted to see for herself that they were gone. That the monsters that haunted her dreams would stay that way forever. Just in her dreams.

The magic carpet brushed softly against the ground and then came to a halt, hovering just an inch over blackened earth. Sabrina slowly lifted her head and stared around, her blue eyes widening slightly.

Despite the weeks that had passed, the ruins of the Demon Castle still smoldered. Huge chunks of obsidian black rock were strewn across the charred dirt, sticking out of the burnt ground like jagged teeth. Wisps of grey smoke curled up from the ground, snaking through the air and towards the sky.

Sabrina stared around, almost wishing that she hadn't come alone, but then she scolded herself. She shouldn't be afraid anymore. All the demons were dead, just like everyone had said. She shouldn't be worrying about something that was gone; instead, she should be focusing all her attention on stopping the Scarlet Hand army.

She slowly slid off the carpet and landed on the soft ground, her sneakers sending puffs of black ash into the air.

Her eyes wandered around the wreckage, taking in the ruins. It had seemed like just yesterday that she had been sneaking around that dark castle, hiding in the shadows from monsters that should only belong in nightmares. Seemed like it was only yesterday that she had been fighting the Demon Queen. Seemed like it was only yesterday that Puck . . .

Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back that thought and the image of Puck's face, as pale as a ghost. Everything had turned out all right. Puck was fine.

Sabrina opened her eyes again and looked to the forest, half expecting the fairy to come jumping out of the trees, but she knew he wouldn't.

Charming had sent the fairy boy out to look for the one person no one wanted, but everyone knew they needed to win the war.

Baba Yaga.

To everyone's relief, Puck had eagerly volunteered to visit the cannibalistic witch. Truthfully, he had just wanted to see the book made out of human skin and to see if she would teach him how to cook a frog.

"Stupid fairy." Sabrina muttered a small smile on her face and then her smile faded into a frown. Thoughts of the fairy brought a vortex of emotions that ranged from confusion, anger, hurt, and a sad attempt of indifference.

After the wedding, when the two had kissed, Sabrina had stayed up practically all night wondering if that meant things between her and the fairy were going to change. Did the fact that they kissed meant they were going to start dating? Were they going to be boyfriend and girlfriend and take romantic walks through the forest? Were they going to hold hands and spend almost every waking moment of their lives together?

Turns out none of that happened. After the wedding, things between her and Puck continued as normal. The fairy boy continued to prank her at least once a day, call her names, and pull chairs out from underneath her. The only thing that changed is that Puck seemed to make it his sworn duty to make sure he was never in a room with her alone. He would exit a building immediately after seeing that she was the only one in the room, and once even went so far as jumping out of a window.

Despite her feeble attempts at telling herself it didn't matter, the boy's rejection of her hurt a lot more than she would like. The thing that bothered Sabrina the most was not knowing why Puck was acting that way. Did she do something? Or had the kiss been just an effect of an emotional day? That day she was just happy that everything had turned out all right for once and Puck . . . well, Puck was alive instead of being dead! Who knew what went through his mind that day?

Sabrina scowled and shook her head fiercely. Why was she thinking about that annoying fairy? It was a good thing nothing happened between them! Now she could focus all her attention on protecting her family from the Scarlet Hand instead of getting tied up in a relationship that would probably just go down the drain.

Sabrina curled her hands into fists and stared up at the sky, forcing all thoughts of the fairy out of her mind.

After hearing that the Hag of the Hills might be joining their army, Uncle Jake had quickly decided to fulfill the promise he had made to the Dragon King. He figured that if he was going to be working close to Baba Yaga, it would be a good idea to be on the dragons' good side. He was going to leave for a scouting mission sometime in the afternoon.

Sabrina winced in the glare of the bright sun. Which meant she should probably head back if she wanted to say goodbye.

The girl took one last look at the ruins, her blue eyes carefully scanning the ground as she jumped back onto the carpet. When she was sure that nothing was going to burst out of the ashes, she said, "Up."

The magic carpet flew upwards and hovered in the air, waiting for further instructions.

"Take me back to the camp," Sabrina wrapped her hand around the carpet's golden tassels, squeezing the rough thread between her fingers. "And hurry!"

The carpet shot forward, almost flinging Sabrina off. The wind slammed into her face with so much force that tears leaked from the sides of her eyes. With an effort, Sabrina closed her eyes and forced her head down as the carpet shot over the forest and headed towards the camp.

Now that she knew for sure that all the demons were gone, she could focus all her attention on helping Charming's army stop the Scarlet Hand.

Sabrina smiled as relief burst inside of her; relief that the monsters that plagued her nightmares were never going to come back again.

. . .

"BAAAAAAABBBAAAA YYYYAAAAAGGAAA!"

The irritating, sing-songy voice snuck its way into the ramshackle house and managed to beat the blaring volume of the T.V., grating against the witch's eardrums.

Baba Yaga yanked her eyes away from the T.V., a scowl etched on her face. With a growl, she stood up from her chair and shuffled into the main room, heading over towards the small window.

"Doesn't anyone get the fact that I live in the middle of the forest to be ALONE?"

She moved the tattered curtain aside with a wart covered hand and peered out of the grimy window, her eyes narrowing. Through the thick foliage of the forest she could make out a blonde head, which stood out like a beacon amidst the autumn leaves, and faint flashes of pink wings.

The Russian witch's scowl deepened. "They sent the fairy."

Normally she would have just eaten the annoying little pest, but the season finale of her show was on and the commercials were almost over.

Baba Yaga lifted a gnarled finger and traced a swirling shape through the thick grim that covered the window. She bent forward and hissed a few, incoherent words. The symbol started to glow a bright blue just as the fairy rounded the corner.

Baba Yaga watched, amusement flashing in her one good eye, as a befuddled expression crossed the fairy boy's face. He lifted a hand and scratched his blonde head.

"I could have sworn there was a house there a second ago." The fairy's voice was easily audible through the thin walls of her home. She watched as Puck's frown deepened and he closed his eyes, only to open them again, as if the house would suddenly appear.

"Huh." The fairy said, cocking his head to the side. "Maybe I'm hilu . . . hallu . . . imagining things." He rubbed his tummy. "I bet it was those fuzzy, green apple pieces Little John hid underneath his bed . . . but I could have sworn . . ."

The fairy stood still for a moment, squinting and turning his head this way and that in an attempt to see the house. When nothing happened he shrugged, his giant pink wings popping out of his back. With a few flaps he was into the air and screaming, "OOOOOH, HAAAAAGG! WHEEERE ARRRRRRE YOOOUUUU?"

Baba Yaga shook her head as he flew out of view. "Idiot." She muttered. She slowly straightened up, popping a few bones as she stood, and walked across the threadbare carpet that covered her floor back to her T.V room.

She plopped herself down on her chair, her long fingers tapping against the torn fabric of her seat as she stared at the T.V. screen, waiting for a commercial about toothpaste to pass.

Really, all of those Everafters were idiots if they thought she was going to help either one of them out with their stupid war. Why should she care if the Scarlet Hand won? Mayor Heart surely wasn't stupid enough to attack her!

Baba Yaga's mouth twisted into a smirk. Then again, that woman was all kinds of stupid. Not to mention that idiotic sheriff of hers.

Just then, the T.V screen showed a pretty blonde woman and a dark haired man. The blonde woman stared pleadingly at the man.

"Joe, I have something to tell you."

The man stared at her, shock covering his features. "What is it, Sara? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that she gave your Australian half-brother a few smooches." Baba Yaga muttered, settling comfortably into her chair and popping what looked like lizards into her mouth. The chair's cushion had molded itself into the shape of her body, providing the maximum comfort level. Baba Yaga propped her feet onto the stained coffee table and watched as the drama ensued, tapping a faint beat against the worn fabric of the chair.

"I . . . I love Steve." Sara said.

Joe reeled back, horror written all over his face. "But . . . how . . . how could you?"

Baba Yaga felt it before she heard the voice. Her long fingers froze mid-tap, hovering over the arm of the chair. Goosebumps lifted the skin on her arms as the temperature in the room dropped almost to the level of the chill that was creeping up her back. The slight tingle in her fingers and the way the hair on the back of her neck rose all told her the same thing. Someone was in her house.

And that someone was watching her.

"He really has no room to talk, since he was canoodling with her evil twin sister Jessica."

The casual voice cut through the air like a knife, almost as cold as the chill that was spreading through the Russian witch. The voice seemed to jolt Baba Yaga out of the shocked trance she was in and her brain screamed at her immobile body parts to move.

Baba Yaga jumped up and spun around, eyes searching the room until she found the source of the voice. She smoothed her features into a look of cocky indifference, as if she had known he was there all along, expertly hiding the shock that raged within her. It was a trick she had perfected over the ages (nothing unsettled an intruder more than if you looked at him like you had been expecting him for the past hour), but over the years, she hadn't needed it. _Nothing_ had taken her surprise before, and that was why, staring at the man casually leaning against her wall, she was filled with so much anger and fury that it felt like her insides were on fire. She hated him for making her feel shock.

The man leaned against the wall and eyed her through disturbingly pale blue eyes. The side of the room he was on was considerably shades darker than the rest of the room, as if the man carried his own darkness around with him.

"Really, I would have never taken you for one who watches soap operas, Hag." His icy blue eyes flashed with amusement and he pushed himself away from the wall with tiger-like grace. Baba Yaga's eyes narrowed a hair. Or maybe with the slithering grace of a snake.

The shadows seemed to cling to him, almost pulling against his long black coat as if they didn't want him to leave.

The man cocked his head to the side and regarded the witch thoughtfully, completely ignoring the shadows that twisted and snaked around his feet. "It's finally nice to meet you face to face, Baba Yaga."

Baba Yaga grinned at him, a psychotic glint in her eyes. "Can't say I feel the same way, _Demetri_." Her grin widened, hiding the frantic thoughts that raced through her mind. How had this . . ._ thing_ gotten into her house without her knowing? Why had her enchanted fence not warned her?

The man's pale face remained impassive, not even a flicker of surprise crossed his features at the sound of his name. Unfazed, the witch plunged on.

"Demetri." Her voice turned mockingly thoughtful. "That's a Russian name, and yet you are not like any Russian I have ever met." The Hag of the Hills cocked her head and eyed the tall man curiously. She could just make out the shape of a wand, the wooden point sticking out between the ratty chair cushion and the arm of the chair. She kept her gaze locked onto the Demetri, not daring to look down at the magical weapon.

"That was a long time ago." Demetri answered, his voice soft. "A very long time." He took a step forward and Baba Yaga took an involuntary step back.

"I assume you know why I'm here?" His voice was a deep, low purr, definitely not the type of voice one expected to come out of someone so twisted.

Baba Yaga's eyes drifted down to the amulet that hung around his neck. She could feel the power rolling off of it and yet she knew it was only a taste.

Oh, she knew exactly why he was standing in her house. The only question was, would she give him what he wanted? A sense of desire and greed rushed through her veins at the thought of the amazing things she could get in return. Besides, she owed nothing to the Grimms . . . then again; it wouldn't just affect the Grimms. It would affect everyone, including her. And she did _not_ like it when things affected her.

Baba Yaga dragged her eyes away from the amulet and looked back to the man. She surreptitiously took a step to the side, putting the chair between her and Demetri. Not much scared the weathered witch but that man filled her with a prickling unease. Being the first one to ever kill a Grimm, she knew there was a reason to feel uneasy around him.

She had to distract him. At least long enough for her to grab the wand and blast him to bits.

Her eyes drifted back down to the amulet. "Близо́к локото́к, да не уку́сишь.*" She grinned up at him wickedly. "So close and yet so far." She leaned forward on her toes and whispered conspiratorially. "Tell me, was Jakob that good at hiding things, or are you just a really bad detective?"

She was disappointed by the lack of fury on Demetri's face. She had always been able to get under people's skin, always been able to rile them. Instead, there was a faintly amused smirk on the man's face. The Russian witch frowned slightly but didn't let it faze her and she inched closer to the chair.

"Do you really think I've spent all this time looking for the amulets?" Demetri's chuckle was a deep rumble. "There are a lot of things you can learn in a hundred years and, with all this power, it would be a waste not to learn them all." He leaned forward, mimicking her earlier movement, and whispered. "Tell me, Hag, how long did it take you to become the most powerful witch in the world?"

The boisterous sound of an insurance ad blared from the T.V. as the two magical beings stared at each other. The woman's cheerful voice barely cut through the tension that crackled in the room.

Baba Yaga inched closer to the chair. The wand was almost in reach. "So, what else takes over a hundred years to do?" She asked, her good eye locked onto Demetri. The other milky white one was staring uselessly up at the ceiling.

"I haven't just been looking for the amulets." The shadows that clung to the corners of the room seemed to stretch towards the man, dimming the already dim lighting in the room. "I've been searching for those like me."

"You mean the damned?" Baba Yaga hissed. Just one more step and she could grab the wand.

"The damned." Demetri's pale blue eyes sparked and he grinned, his lips turning up at the edges. "I think I like that. Has a nice ring to it."

He opened his mouth to say something else but before he could, Baba Yaga lunged forward. As soon as her fingers touched the wood, the wand's tip burst into erratic, red sparks.

She lifted the wand up and pointed it threateningly at Demetri. "I don't like people who make me miss my show." She growled, the violent red sparks cast her face in a mix of bright red and black shadows, distorting her already ugly face and coloring her sharp teeth in red.

A disappointed sigh passed Demetri's lips and he stared up at the ceiling for a moment, shaking his head slightly. When he lowered his head again, his eyes were black.

"I _really_ don't like people pointing weapons at me." He hissed and flicked his hand.

A blotch of shadow detached itself from the wall and flew across the room, looking like a streak of ink. The streak of darkness tore through the air and, before Baba Yaga could do anything, sliced through the wand, severing it in two.

The Russian witch stared in shock as one half of the wand fell to the ground. The broken half shot off some feeble red sparks and then died.

"But . . . but . . ." For once, Baba Yaga was speechless.

"But how can an incorporeal shadow cut through something tangible?" Even though she wasn't looking at him, the Hag could tell he was smirking. "You'd be surprised at what shadows can do."

Baba Yaga stared down at the broken wand and then lifted her head, rage flashing in her eyes. "You want to know what I can do?" Her voice came out as harsh whisper layered with fury.

She lifted a gnarled hand and a portion of the rug flew up, revealing a symbol crudely carved into the worn wooden floor. The symbol started to glow, the harsh light cutting through the shadows.

"_Get out of my house_!" The witch's shriek was followed by a string of unintelligible words. She pointed a finger at Demetri and a loud _whoosh_ filled the air.

Something slammed into Demetri, flinging him out of the T.V. room. The front door opened and the man flew out, the door slamming shut behind him.

Baba Yaga snarled and slammed her foot into the ground. The chandelier above her head shook violently, the glass pieces filling the air with a discordant tinkling sound as the house shuddered.

With a soft moan, the house pulled away from the ground, a pair of chicken legs lifting the dilapidated building. The chicken legs turned, their claws digging deep into the earth, jumped over the fence, and propelled the house forward into the woods.

Despite how the house shook with each jarring step, Baba Yaga walked calmly out of her T.V. room and into the main room. The rows of glass jars that filled the shelves of her bookshelves shook unstably, filling the air with an annoying tinkling sound.

The Hag of the Hills pointed a finger at the shelves and muttered a few words under her breath. The jars immediately stopped shaking, as if they were frozen in time.

The Russian witch stomped across the room, grabbed a wand out of the coffee mug resting on the table, and walked to the small window. She yanked the window open and stuck her head out.

The cool wind blew stringy, wisps of grey hair across her face but she ignored it, her rage filled eyes zeroing in on Demetri. She wished she could make out his facial expression. It would have filled her with joy to see the anger burning on his face. She stuck her arm out the window and pointed the wand threateningly at him.

"GO AWAY!" Her thickly accented Russian voice reverberated through the forest. "YOU'RE MAKING ME MISS MY SHOW!"

A streak of green energy shot out of the wooden weapon and flew through the air with the loud crack of thunder. The blast hit the ground inches away from the Demetri's clean, black boots, turning the once green grass into a circle of charred dirt.

Demetri stared down at the circle of blackened earth with indifference. He lifted his eyes and stared back up at the fleeing building, watching as the trees magically parted in front of it.

His cold blue eyes tinted black. "I never took you for a coward, Hag." His smooth voice passed his lips in a velvety, amused whisper.

Inside the house, Baba Yaga froze, her muscles tightening in shock. She could hear him as if he was standing right beside her, whispering in her ear. Her grip on the wand tightened so much there was a risk she might break the wooden weapon.

He was right. She was being a coward, running away from him. She was Baba Yaga. _She _was the one who chased people, not the other way around. She studied Demetri through the grimy glass like a dog would size up another before attacking.

But she'd rather be a cowardly witch than a dead witch.

"I was expecting a lot more from you."

A scowl tugged at the witch's features and she spun on her heel. She stomped across the room and dug through her mug, looking for a wand that would obliterate the man while calling him every Russian curse she could think of.

Demetri smirked as he stared up at the house. The shadows slid across the forest floor, licking at his feet. His icy blue eyes narrowed. Baba Yaga had made a big mistake by kicking him out.

He lifted a pale hand and pointed at the house. The shadows that had been curling around his feet shot up off the ground and flew through the air. The shadowy projectiles flew like black knives and sliced through the chicken legs, severing them from the house.

The ground shook with the impact as the dilapidated house hit the ground. Before Demetri could take two steps the house started to shudder. The ramshackle building shot into the air, revealing another pair of chicken legs that propelled the house forward to the cackling of its inhabitant.

Demetri chuckled. "Of course." He muttered.

He raised his hand and once again shadows flew towards the house, but this time, instead of attacking the chicken legs, they attacked the building.

The shadows, looking like black sludge, slid over the walls of the house, searching for a crack or a hole that would let them inside.

A cold chill ran down Baba Yaga's spine and she looked up to see what looked like black ooze sliding over the walls of her home, covering every inch. A sound erupted from the witch's mouth, a mix between a shriek and a feral growl, and she jumped onto a chair as the blackness covered the floor. Soon every single inch of her home was covered, making it feel like she was in the middle of a black hole.

Demetri's cold blue eyes flashed as black as ink and he splayed his fingers. A loud groaning sound filled the air and the sides of the house inflated, the walls pushing outward with agonizing groans. With a loud creak the house exploded, little bits of house and shadows scattered across the forest floor and the chicken legs flopped to the ground, useless.

Baba Yaga fell to the ground with an ear piercing shriek. Something large and chunky landed beside her. The witch turned her head to see the smoking chunk of metal that used to be her T.V. A warped sound emanated from it and it took the witch a moment to realize that it was music from her show, the music that usually accompanied someone about to die, and then the T.V died.

Baba Yaga shot up off the ground with a speed that normally didn't belong to someone her age. Blind rage boiled inside of her and her snarled, her lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth.

He had broken her T.V.

She spun around on her heel, her eyes searching the trees for the man. Her good eye boiled with a rage that sent many a man to his knees, begging for mercy.

That fury filled eye locked on to Demetri. He was still far away, barely visible through the trees, but not far enough away to avoid being burnt to a tasty crisp.

She lifted her hands and pulled them behind her head, a slow mumble of ancient words passing her lips. The stream of words slowly sped up and got louder and her hands started to glow, her fingers crackling with white flames.

Her milky white eye suddenly swiveled around, then locked onto the man, and the eye began to glow brightly.

Baba Yaga was practically screaming the incantation, her hands glowing brighter and brighter. She opened her mouth, shrieked the spell one last time and then brought her hands down.

A blinding white light filled the forest, a light accompanied by a high pitched, shrieking sound. The Hag of the Hills stood, panting for breath, and waited until the blinding white light disappeared, revealing a blackened tunnel of charred trees and earth that stretched in front of her.

Demetri wasn't there.

A triumphant smile cracked the witch's face as she stared around at the destroyed forest. There wasn't even a sign that Demetri had been there. Just a bunch of black earth, trees, and smoke.

A movement caught the witch's eyes and the smile slowly fell from her face. She watched, a cold block of ice growing in her stomach, as the black smoke started to twist and coalesce. In the time span of a second, the black smoke had formed the shape of a man and was slowly gaining pigment, revealing black hair, pale skin, and light blue eyes.

Demetri stared around at the charred earth and trees, a whistle blowing past his lips. "That was pretty impressive." He sneered. "Unless, of course, you were trying to burn me."

A Russian curse escaped the witch's lips as she stared at the man, a conflicting mixture of horror and wonder twisting her features. No normal Everafter, not even the most powerful, could change his body mass to that of smoke and be able to regenerate to normal form five seconds later.

Demetri smiled as he slowly walked forward, a smile as sharp as the blade of a knife. "A woman really shouldn't use such foul language."

Baba Yaga took a step back and quickly shook away her shock, trying to ignore the strange feeling that was twisting her guts. She narrowed her eyes at the man and lifted a glowing hand.

She threw her hand upward and shot a blast of white light that shattered the leaves and branches that stretched overhead, letting in a wave of sunlight. The golden light fell to the ground, bathing Demetri.

Demetri casually brushed some leaves and twigs off the shoulder of his jacket. He looked up and stared at the witch with mock shock. "Oh, I'm sorry." His lips twisted into a sneer. "Am I supposed to burst into flames? Or should I melt like the Wicked Witch?"

Baba Yaga took another step back. "I thought your kind couldn't stand sunlight." She hissed as the flames that licked her fingers puttered and died. She tried to summon them back, but it was no use. The sudden weight in her bones and the pounding in her temples all told her the same thing.

She had used up all her energy.

"Ah, but the rest of my kind doesn't have this." Demetri gestured to the amulet that hung around his neck.

"I bet if I blasted you now you wouldn't be able to do that smoke trick." Baba Yaga hissed. She knew it was a long shot but maybe he'd turn tail and run. Yeah, right.

"But that would make me very angry." Demetri's eyes flashed and suddenly he was standing right in front of her, his face inches away from her long, wart covered nose. This close up, she could see the red wisps in his now black eyes. "And I don't think you want me to get angry." He hissed.

The Hag of the Hills took a step back and then made a quick, life preserving decision.

She turned and ran.

She didn't get very far.

Baba Yaga had taken two steps before she noticed the thing standing in the shadows, blocking her way.

The thing was in the shape of a human but was made completely out of shadows a shade darker than the ones surrounding it. The shadows constantly twisted and curled, giving the creature a sort of rippling look, like the surface of a lake. Despite being shaped like a human, the thing was completely featureless, its face just a circle of impenetrable darkness. But, even though it had no eyes, Baba Yaga knew its attention was focused on her.

An odd mixture of awe, uncertainty, and disgust filled the Russian witch as she stared at the creature that was blocking her path to freedom. There it was. A cursed being. A corrupted phoenix.

A Shadow.

With a scowl, Baba Yaga shoved back her uncertainly and got ready to charge at the thing. That's all it was, a shadow. A soulless, heartless, incorporeal imitation of an actual being that couldn't feel anything, much less hurt someone.

Baba Yaga suddenly hesitated. But then again, a bunch of shadows had just blown her house to bits.

"Oh, yeah, the damned." The voice in her ear seemed to chuckle on its own. "I can control them."

Baba Yaga moved to turn around, thinking the least she could do was kick the man where it counts, when an icy finger touched the back of her neck.

A wave of coldness flooded down her back, settling in her spin. Baba Yaga tried to turn around, but couldn't. She tried to twitch her fingers, but couldn't. She couldn't move.

That strange feeling violently twisted her insides and Baba Yaga recognized it for what it was.

Fear.

Demetri slowly walked around her and came to a stop in front of her, eyeing her through icy eyes. "Now, where are they?"

Baba Yaga glared at him, rage filling her. Rage at him for blowing her house to bits, for destroying her T.V., for immobilizing her, but mostly for making her feel like a scared little human.

"Go. To. Hell." Baba Yaga spat, enunciating every word.

Demetri leaned back and calmly wiped the spittle from his face. When he stared back at her, the look in his eyes sent chills down her spin.

Instead of being angry, the man looked frighteningly calm, which wasn't good at all.

Angry people killed you faster. Calm people had the strength to kill you in the most unpleasant ways.

Demetri slowly lifted his hand and Baba Yaga watched as a ball of shadow formed above his palm, twisting and turning in a never ending ball of darkness. "You know the trick I did to your house?" He hissed and the tone of his voice, soft and deadly, made her look back to his face and the look in his eyes froze her to the core. "I can do that to your head."

Not many things scared Baba Yaga, but faced with the threat of having her head blown up; she decided she deserved to be a little scared. The witch forced her fear down and met Demetri's cold gaze with narrowed eyes.

"Why should I tell you if you're just going to kill me anyway?" She hissed.

An amused smirk curled the corner of his mouth. "Because if you tell me, I won't kill you right now."

Baba Yaga was a lot of things, but one of the things she wasn't was a hero. She definitely wasn't going to risk her hide saving a bunch of low-life idiots. Besides, getting her head blown to pieces wasn't exactly something she wanted.

"I don't know where the rest are." She said and then, when his eyes flashed black, hurriedly continued. "But I know that Jakob wrote a journal."

The cold feeling in her spine slowly started to diminish and she began to gain control over her body parts. She took that as a sign that he wasn't going to kill her.

At least not yet.

"Find the journal and it should tell you where the others are." Baba Yaga continued.

"And where is this journal?" Demetri's voice was a low rumble in the back of his throat.

"Last I heard, a certain pirate had it."

Demetri opened his mouth and then paused, a brief look of confusion crossing his face. He whipped his head to the left and stood still, as if listening for something. The only sound that filled the air was the soft tweet of birds. After a few seconds, Demetri turned his head back to the witch, his brow wrinkled.

Baba Yaga's lips twisted into a wicked grin. "Do you sense her? The other phoenix?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and the ball started to twist faster. "Which pirate?" He growled.

"Oh," Baba Yaga grinned and lifted a hand. She curled her fingers into a fist and raised a curled index finger, forming the shape of a hook. "You can't miss him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN- Three guesses as to who the pirate is, and the first two don't count! ;)**

***the literal translation of the Russian statement is 'Your elbow is close, yet you can't lick it.", which pretty much means 'So close and yet so far". I don't know if the statement is accurate, I got it from a website where you type something and it translates it into whatever language you want!**

**This chapter was originally supposed to be longer, but I decided to cut it into two chapters. So, the next chapter should come very soon, I just have to read over it and change any mistakes.**

**Feel free to mention any mistakes I made, or if you don't understand something.**


	3. Peppermints, Gumdrops, and Dragons

**A/N- So, I had this all written out, and then my laptop died. Now I have to write everything out on the other computer which is out in the room the has no air conditioning, so it might take me longer to update. Sorry.**

**Curlscat- Thank you! Your review made my day! =) I'm glad you liked the Baba Yaga part. That was the part I had the most trouble with.**

**Evil ScrapbookerJW13- Thank you! =)**

**Scarlet Wolf – Sorry, but I forgot the name of the website.**

**I couldn't really find anything in the books that described what Red looked like, so I just made up her appearance. Sorry if that bothers anyone.**

. . .

The cool wind rushed past her in a roaring wave that blocked out all other sound, whipping her hair out behind her. Sabrina tightly gripped the edges of the carpet as she stared up at the sky. Despite the many times she had ridden the carpet; she still wasn't comfortable flying without holding onto something. She focused on the sky, staring at the fluffy white clouds that, even this high up, still seemed to float a lifetime away, as the magic carpet soared over the town of Ferryport Landing.

Sabrina didn't want to look down and see the wreckage of what used to be a pleasant town. She didn't want to see the shattered stores, broken glass, burnt buildings, and destroyed homes. But most of all, she didn't want to see the red hands that covered almost every inch of the destroyed town.

She waited until she was positive the town was far behind and out of view before she peered over the edge of the carpet. Trees flew by underneath her at a nauseating speed, a giant flash of red, orange and yellow. She gripped the side of the carpet and lifted a hand, futilely trying to keep her hair out of her face as the trees began to thin out and a small valley appeared.

From above, the new Fort Charming looked rather . . . small. Just a tiny huddle of tents and cabins all connected by dirt paths, paths that lead to the big clearing in the middle of the camp. A large, wooden wall encircled the camp, topped by sharp, threatening spikes. The farmhouse was still being built at the far end of the camp, just a wooden skeleton now. It definitely wasn't the proud, regale fortress Charming wanted it to be.

"CARPET, DOWN!" Sabrina shouted in an attempt to be heard over the roaring wind.

The carpet dropped like a rock, sending Sabrina's heart into her throat and leaving her stomach floating in the air. It stopped just an inch above the ground, hovering placidly in the middle of a path while Sabrina tried to detach her fingers from the golden tassels they were wrapped around.

The girl slid off the carpet and sent it a furious glare. "Don't do that!" She hissed as her blue eyes glanced warily around the camp.

Everafters brushed past her, some ignoring her and the carpet as they hurried to finish whatever job they were assigned. Others stared at her with barely concealed curiosity as they walked by, trying to pretend they were busy so they wouldn't get assigned anything to do.

Sabrina swiftly rolled the carpet up and stepped into a makeshift alleyway between two cabins. She tucked the carpet under her arm and slid out onto a different path, keeping to the side to avoid people. Ever since Sabrina, Daphne, Puck, Uncle Jake and Briar had gotten back from the Demon's Castle, everyone and their mother wanted to know all the juicy details. All Sabrina had wanted to do was forget the horrific event, but some Everafters couldn't seem to take a hint, even when she threatened to break all their teeth if they didn't get their noses out of her business.

_At least some good came from avoiding nosy fairytales _Sabrina thought, slipping into another alleyway. Hiding from snooping Everafters had allowed her to search every nook and cranny of the camp. Now she knew the fastest routes from one end of the camp to the other, and she knew of at least five areas that she could sneak her family out of in case the Scarlet Hand attacked again.

Sabrina slipped out of the alleyway and turned to the left, her blue eyes scanning passing faces for any family members. She tried to ignore the weary, tired faces of the people who passed by and focused on the more cheery ones, which were mostly Merry Men who'd had too much to drink.

A harsh voice cut through the air like a knife, easily slicing through the voices of those around her. Sabrina slowed down as she passed the training ground, where the harsh voice was coming from. She watched as a group of Everafters, their uniforms caked with mud, did pushups, their muscles straining and groans passing their lips. A beautiful, black haired woman glared at them, her ruby red lips twisted into a scowl. "C'mon ladies!" She shouted. "I can do better than you with one arm tied behind my back! And quit your groaning!"

Snow White glanced up from her groaning soldiers, her blue eyes softening a bit when she spotted Sabrina. The princess's scowl lifted into a brief smile as she waved a hand at Sabrina before returning to shout at the soldiers.

Sabrina returned the wave, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Snow White was definitely one of her role models.

Thanks to Granny Relda's amazing decorating skills, the Grimm's cabin was easily distinguishable from all the others. Bright flowers, magically enchanted to stay alive through winter, grinned up at the sun from colorful windowsill boxes and a cheery welcome mat rested in front of the door. The outside was painted a yellow so bright it seemed to emit its own light. Their home was a colorful contrast to the dull browns of the other cabins. Sabrina opened the door and stuck her head in, her eyes scanning the tiny living room for any family members.

"Hello?" She called, stepping inside. "Anyone here?"

After getting no answer, Sabrina tossed the carpet onto the floor; she still hadn't forgiven it for its little prank earlier, and stepped outside, closing the door behind her. She continued walking through the camp in search for her family, though she had a feeling her mother and grandmother were probably helping in the infirmary. Uncle Jake was most likely getting ready for his trip. Where Mr. Canis, Daphne, and Henry were she had no idea.

Sabrina took her time walking around the camp, letting the indistinguishable hum of the conversations around her soothe her nerves. All around her, Everafters joked and conversed with each other, some even shouting from one end of the camp to another end. Some of the Merry Men were belting out a song, the raucous out of tune melody drifting in a barely audible wave above everyone else's voices. For a moment, Sabrina could almost imagine that everything was back to normal. That there was no war, no threat of death breathing down their necks, and no fear. At least she could pretend that until she turned to the left.

Sabrina turned the corner and immediately stared down at her worn tennis shoes as reality smacked her in the face. The sounds of moans and crying reached her ears over the indistinct rumble of the conversations around her as she got nearer to the infirmary. Sabrina kept her eyes glued to the ground, watching puffs of dust fly into the air every time her sneaker connected with the ground, her hands curling into fists as she moved so quickly that she was practically running.

She didn't want to look up and see the big, white tent that loomed forebodingly among the cabins. She didn't want to be able to put faces to the moans that drifted through the air. She didn't want to see worried people crowding outside the large tent, trying to peek in to see if their loved ones were okay.

Sabrina slammed into someone and stumbled back, almost losing her balance. She looked up, a retort on her lips . . . a retort that quickly died when she found herself staring into two distant, brown eyes. The man blinked at her, but didn't really see her. His chapped lips moved, but no words came out. A white bandage was wrapped around his head, covering most of his brown hair, a blotch of red staining the white fabric.

"Uh . . . are you . . . are you okay?" Sabrina stammered out.

The man's mouth continued to move and then his eyes grew wide and he grabbed her arms in an iron grip. "It's coming! It's coming!" He hissed as his panic filled eyes drilled into her. "IT'S COMING!"

Sabrina could only stare in shock as the man shook her, his fingers digging into her skin, screaming at her that 'it' had spotted them. Suddenly, a large, beefy hand landed onto the man's shoulder and a soothing voice said, "Steve, let the girl go."

Sabrina looked over Steve's shoulder to see the puffy face of Nurse Sprat. The Nurse's usually jovial face was drawn down with tiredness and dark circles crouched under her eyes. "C'mon, Steve, we've got to go back inside." The Nurse's tone was soothing but firm, her tired eyes glancing apologetically at Sabrina.

The panicked look in the man's eyes faded away, replaced with the distant look. "Inside." He muttered and turned to stumble back towards the tent. Nurse Sprat watched as he limped back into the tent, sighed, and ran a hand through her already messy hair.

"Who was that?" Sabrina's voice cracked, her gut twisting as the man's panicked face flashed into her mind.

Nurse Sprat sighed again, a heavy sigh of someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders. "He was the father of somebody." She wiped her hands on her apron, and turned her weary gaze to Sabrina. "He and two other poor souls were attacked by a dragon when they went scouring the town for any survivors. One of them died, and the other probably won't walk again." Her shoulders drooped as another heavy sigh passed her lips, and she ran a hand over her tired face. "Your mother wanted me to tell you to tell Jake she said goodbye and good luck. She's busy helping me, God bless her soul. Tell your uncle I said good luck too. We need more dragons on our side or I'm afraid this war won't last long."

She walked back to the tent, lifting a hand in a half-hearted wave to Sabrina as she slipped past the tent's opening.

"Right." Sabrina muttered softly, staring at the tent for a few moments before turning and walking away. Her stomach twisted into knots and anger surged up inside of her, her fingers instinctively curling into fists. Did the Scarlet Hand have to deal with this too? Did they have to deal with wounded people? Dying friends? Grieving families? Why couldn't they see that all this fighting was just going to get everyone killed?

"SABRINA!" The cheery voice broke through Sabrina's thoughts and she lifted her head, looking around for the source of the voice.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when she saw Daphne making her way towards her. A large, pointy blue hat with silver stars sat atop Daphne's head, covering her brown hair except for the two brown tips of her pigtails that stuck out below the rim of the hat. The large hat kept sliding down the little girl's head, obscuring her vision and causing her to veer wildly. She ran into five people before she reached Sabrina, leaving a wake of angry Everafters behind her.

Daphne shoved the hat up and grinned up at her older sister. "You like my hat?"

Sabrina chucked. "Oh, yeah. But isn't it a bit big?"

"Only a little. Merlin gave it to me!" Daphne's smile faded and a disappointed look filled her brown eyes. "He said he couldn't train me to be a wizard."

Ever since coming back from the Demon Castle, Daphne had been wavering between becoming a wizard, a phoenix and a detective. One day she'd smash red berries into her hair and run around with a box of matches, the next she'd act like her normal sleuth-y self and then she'd run around with a stick shouting things from Harry Potter.

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to be a phoenix? Or a detective?"

"I am!" Daphne declared, her large grin reappearing. "I'm going to be all of them."

"You're going to be all of them?" Sabrina said skeptically. "'Cause that's going to turn out _sooooo_ well."

Daphne stuck her tongue out at Sabrina as her hat slid down again "You just wait, I'm gonna be the greatest wiztectix ever!"

"I'm pretty sure you'll be the only wiz . . . whatever, Daphne."

Sabrina and Daphne spun around at the sound of that voice to see the Phoenix standing behind them, a tired looking smile on her face. Worry flickered in Sabrina's blue eyes as she took in the Phoenix's appearance. The woman's pale skin had a tired grey tint to it and dark circles stood out like bruises under her glowing amber eyes. Blood spattered the jeans and t-shirt she must have borrowed from somebody and her familiar cloak seemed to swallow her. Even her fiery hair seemed to droop. But even with fatigue pulling down her normally cheery features, the woman's alien beauty still managed to shine through, causing passing men to run into multiple things.

"Are you okay?" Daphne shoved her hat back up and stared at the woman with worried brown eyes.

"I'm fine, just a little tired." The Phoenix smiled down at the little girl. "I've been helping out at the infirmary all night long. I just need some beauty sleep and then I'll be back to my usual, lovable self." She winked a tired eye at them.

"Why are you helping in the infirmary?" Sabrina asked. She figured if the Phoenix was going to help in the war, she'd help with the fighting part. She'd seen the Phoenix fight the demons; with the woman on their side the Scarlet Hand didn't stand a chance.

"You forget," the Phoenix gestured to her eyes with a pale hand, "magical healing tears. I figured the infirmary would be where I'd be the most helpful."

Sabrina frowned. "But aren't you going to fight?" Somebody shoved past Sabrina on his rush to get wherever he was going and Sabrina glared after him.

The Phoenix's lips pulled down slightly at the corners. "I can't."

"Why not?" Daphne asked, her brow winkling in puzzlement. "You kicked the demons' butt!"

Amusement sparked in the Phoenix's amber eyes as she shook her head. "Phoenix's aren't allowed to kill anything unless it is purely evil, like the demons."

"What happens when you kill something?" Daphne asked, her eyes wide as her hat slid down her face.

The Phoenix's eyes darkened and she turned away from the girls, her amber gaze drifting aimlessly around the camp. "Something bad." She muttered. Sabrina's eyes narrowed slightly as she picked up the regretful tone in the woman's voice.

"Like what?" Sabrina pressed, tucking her hair behind her ear. She was determined to get a straight answer out of the Phoenix. Though they'd fought side by side, Sabrina knew nothing about the powerful woman. She didn't even know her real name! Every time she asked about the Phoenix's past the woman would grow distant and find some excuse to leave.

"Do they turn into that . . . that shadow thing you told us about?" Daphne's voice was barely above a whisper, her brown eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and horror as images of shadowy beings crowded her mind.

"Yes." The Phoenix answered abruptly, her gaze turning skyward.

"Have you known someone who turned into a shadow?" Daphne's eyes grew to the size of plates.

"Yes." The woman's voice held that sharp, short tone that meant she wasn't going to continue talking about that subject and Sabrina felt her lips pull down into an annoyed scowl. How was she supposed to trust the Phoenix if she knew nothing about her?

"We should probably hurry if we want to say goodbye to your uncle. The dragons are almost here." The Phoenix said as she looked at the girls. Her usual goofy smile curved her lips. "I can't wait to see Ichabod's face when he sees them."

Daphne giggled, all thoughts of evil phoenixes leaving her mind. "He's so gonna flip out."

Sabrina smiled as they made their way to the only place that could hold a dragon. The big clearing in the middle of the camp was where everyone assembled when Charming decided to make one of his 'inspiring' speeches. The large circle of dirt was the only place a dragon could fit without smashing any cabins.

Sabrina followed the Phoenix as they walked through the camp, weaving their way through the Everafters that hurried by. She kept a hand on Daphne's arm so the little girl wouldn't run into anyone.

"You like my hat?" Daphne asked the Phoenix.

The Phoenix grinned down at the little girl, putting on a cheery face that barely concealed her fatigue. "Pretty cool."

"Merlin gave it to me."

Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Please tell her that she can't become a Phoenix." Daphne angrily stuck her tongue out at her older sister.

"Actually, she can." The Phoenix answered.

Sabrina stopped suddenly, shock causing her mouth to drop open. Her sudden stop made her lose her grip on Daphne, who immediately veered into an Everafter.

"Hey, watch where you're going." The man growled. With his pointy ears and oddly sharp features, the man looked like some kind of elf. His moss green eyes snapped grumpily as he sneered down at the little girl.

Daphne shoved her hat up and glared at him. "There's no need to be a Mr. Grumpy Pants." She said.

The man stared at her and then at Sabrina, his alien eyes stabbing into them like daggers. "Oh, you're Grimms." He voice came out in a hiss, layered with disgust as if they were two cockroaches instead of children.

"Yeah," Sabrina stuck her chin out, her blue eyes narrowing angrily. "And you're a jerk."

The elf's sneer deepened and he muttered something under his breath before walking away. Sabrina grabbed Daphne's arm before her little sister could run after the man and demand that he use proper manners, and dragged her after the Phoenix. She tried to ignore the unease that rippled through her. That elf's reaction was something she would have expected from a Scarlet Hand member, not a member of Charming's army!

Sabrina caught up to the magical woman, shoving all thoughts of the angry elf out of her mind. The Phoenix hadn't seemed to notice that they had left, which was odd. The sharp eyed woman normally noticed everything. "What did you say?" Sabrina asked.

"I said she could become a Phoenix." The woman's amber gaze briefly flickered to her before roaming around the camp again. A small frown formed on the Phoenix's face.

"Panda!" Daphne exclaimed.

Sabrina opened her mouth, frowned, and looked down at Daphne. "Panda?"

"It's my new word." Daphne grinned up at her. "It means amazingly awesome."

"But why panda?"

"Because pandas are amazingly awesome." Daphne answered like it was obvious.

"Riiiiight." Sabrina turned back to the Phoenix. "How?" She had thought you had to be the offspring of a phoenix to become one.

"Unlike most magical creatures, becoming a phoenix isn't something you're born into." The Phoenix sidestepped a soldier unstably carrying a large pile of weapons. "Whenever a phoenix gets too old, or when they wish to return to a normal life, they pass their power onto a trustworthy person of their choice."

"Wait, you guys age? I thought Everafters didn't age?" Sabrina's frown deepened at the distracted tone in the Phoenix's voice. Something was definitely wrong.

The Phoenix shook her head. "No, we age, but we age a lot slower than any other magical creature. I know a phoenix that's a lot older than Puck." She stopped and held up her hand, showing the two girls her palm. A strange symbol was burned into the Phoenix's skin, an intricate design of swirling red lines. "When a Phoenix dies or gives up their power, this symbol shows up on the hand of the person they chose to take their place. If that person wishes to become a phoenix, the symbol imbeds itself into their skin." The woman laughed at the disgusted look on Daphne's face. "It's not painful. It stings for a few seconds and then it itches like crazy for a few days." She scratched her palm as if the thought had made it itch again.

"But what if that person doesn't want to be a phoenix?" Sabrina could feel a slight bubble of triumph fill her. The Phoenix was finally telling her more about her kind!

"Then it goes to the next person the phoenix chose."

"What if no one wants to be a phoenix?" Daphne shoved her hat back up, a scowl on her face. "Stay up." She muttered.

"Then the phoenix's power goes to the closest phoenix, which is then ordered to spit the extra power among the other phoenixes. The same thing happens if a phoenix dies before they choose their replacement." A frown tugged down the corner of her lips and she suddenly stopped. She looked around, her amber eyes scanning the camp for something, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"What's wrong?" Sabrina asked, her stomach twisting into knots when a memory flashed through her mind. _Thunder rumbling across the sky . . . the deep crack in the earth . . . the Phoenix's wide eyes . . . sharp demon claws coming inches away from Daphne . . ._

"I don't know." The Phoenix's voice broke through Sabrina's memory, bringing the girl back to the present. The Phoenix's lips were curved down into a befuddled frown. "It just feels like . . . but there can't be . . ." The woman breathed, her voice so soft Sabrina almost couldn't hear it.

Sabrina opened her mouth when a large shadow suddenly covered the camp, turning day into night for a few seconds. Panicked shouts of alarm rang out all around her as Sabrina lifted her head to see two large shapes fly over the camp. The dragons had arrived.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some of Arthur's knights pull out their swords, angry scowls on their faces as they watched the dragons fly overhead. Some pulled out bows and arrows, ready to shot the giant creatures out of the sky.

"No!" Sabrina shouted. If they shot those dragons then the Dragon King would never help them with the Scarlet Hand. "Those are the good ones! They're on our side!"

One of the knights scowled at her. "None of those beasts are good." His tone was low and gravelly with anger, his eyes sparking with animosity. "They should all die!"

The Phoenix stepped in front of the man, her amber eyes blazing. The tired and distracted look that had dominated her features was gone, replaced by a burning fury that made her eyes snap. "The first one who so much as points a weapon at those dragons will answer to me." The woman's voice had dropped a few degrees from its usual warmness to a threatening chill.

The soldier stared at the Phoenix, common sense warring with his pride, before he growled, "If those monsters so mush as extend their claws, I'll kill them." He turned abruptly and stalked away, the rest of his soldiers following behind.

Sabrina watched them leave, worry twisting inside of her. If the Everafters attacked the dragons then there would be no hope of them winning against the Scarlet Hand.

"He's so un-panda.' A worried look filled Daphne's usually cheery brown eyes and the corners of her lips pulled down into a frown. "They won't really attack the dragons, will they?" She asked the Phoenix.

The woman shrugged as all the anger melted from her face. She ran a hand across her drawn face, a sigh escaping her lips. "You must understand that the Scarlet Hand's dragons have probably wounded or killed some of their friends."

"But these dragons are on our side!" Sabrina muttered angrily.

The Phoenix's amber gaze turned to her. "When you had found out that the Scarlet Hand had kidnapped your parents, were you so trustworthy of Everafters, even the ones who were on your side?"

Sabrina sighed. The woman had a point. She knew by experience that it was hard to trust people who were grouped with others who did horrible things.

"Well," Daphne's grin lit up her whole face, "what are we waiting for? Let's go see the dragons!" With that said, the little girl took off like a bullet towards the clearing.

"Daphne, wait!" Sabrina ran after her sister, expertly maneuvering around the Everafters, which was more than could be said about Daphne. Within seconds, the large wizard hat obscured the little girl's vision and Sabrina watched as she began to swerve wildly, her arms held out in front of her. Luckily, people seemed to have gotten the memo about the rampaging little girl on the loose and jumped out of the way . . . all except for what looked like a moving mountain.

Sabrina barreled her way through a cluster of Everafters, ignoring their angry cries as she watched Daphne slam into the giant. Sabrina felt time slow to a crawl as the giant turned around, her feet shoving hard into the ground as fear that the thing would eat her sister, or smash her to bits, filled her.

A loud, "GUMMY BEAR!" echoed around the camp and all images of a flattened Daphne fled Sabrina's mind as the giant swooped the little girl into his arms. She slowed to a stop in front of the two, relief bursting inside of her at the realization that the giant was just Little John.

Little John released a grinning Daphne, turned to Sabrina, and, before the girl could protest, swept her into a bone-crushing hug.

"PEPPERMINT!" The scratchy green fabric of Little John's shirt did nothing to muffle the booming voice that roared in her ear, almost deafening her and shaking her to her bones. Little John was the type of person who loved to give others nicknames, though his nicknames always were related to food.

The large man set Sabrina down on the ground and grinned at them, his smile a flash of white against the unruly black curls of his beard. "How are my two favorite troublemakers?" Little John's voice was deep and rumbling, reminding Sabrina of how thunder rumbled in the sky after the rain stopped.

"Great!" Daphne's smile almost split her face in two. She shoved her hat back up. "You like my hat?"

Little John guffawed and slapped Daphne on the back, almost sending the little girl tumbling to the ground. "That hat is amazing, but it's a bit big for you."

"I'll grow into it." Daphne said, dismissing the comment with a wave of her hand.

Sabrina snorted. "Yeah, in ten years."

Daphne stuck her tongue out at Sabrina and then turned back to Little John. "Are you going to say goodbye to Uncle Jake too?"

"Actually, I was waiting for Rob," Little John's eyes roved over the crowd, easily seeing over everyone's heads. His face suddenly twisted into a grimace. "Uh-oh, here he comes, and he does not look happy."

Sabrina and Daphne turned to see the famous archer making his way towards them. Robin Hood's body language screamed infuriated, his body tense, his eyebrows drawn into an angry line, and his lips moved as he muttered furiously to himself. His red face was a shade lighter than the wavy hair that brushed his shoulders and his goatee and mustache. Even the red feather on his hat seemed to vibrate with rage.

Little John opened his mouth to speak but Robin beat him to it. "That blasted man!" Robin's usually imperceptible British accent now coated every one of his angry words. "Thinking he can go around and boss everyone." He spun towards Little John. "Do you know what he ask . . . no, what he _demanded_ I do?"

Little John took a step back. "Uh . . . who?" His deep voice held an unfamiliar cautiousness that made Sabrina take a step back. If Robin made Little John nervous, than she didn't want to be too close to him.

"That pig-headed, snotty-nosed Charming!" Robin growled through gritted teeth, his hazel eyes blazing. "I've had enough of that man thinking he can go around treating everyone like dirt underneath his fancy leather shoes. Now, I've ignored him for a while," He held up his hand as Little John opened his mouth, "but this was the last straw. He ordered me to sweep, _sweep_, the ground outside." The archer kicked the ground with his foot, kicking up a cloud of dirt. "Now, what kind of bloody idiot doesn't understand that the ground outside is made of dirt, so, when you sweep the dirt, there's just going to BE MORE DIRT UNDERNEATH! And this is after he told me that _I _was incapable of controlling my men."

The archer's sudden outburst caused passing Everafters to jump back in surprise. They watched him with wide, wary eyes as they passed, making sure to put a lot of distance between him and them.

Little John lifted a hand as if to put it on Robin's shoulder and then thought better of it. "Maybe he's just stressed out, Rob." His large hand fell back to his side. "What with the war going badly and all, who knows what's going through his mind."

"He has a mind?" A mischievous glint flashed through Robin's eyes. "I had no clue." Robin shook his head and grinned at the girls, the anger slowly fading from his face. "I apologize for my outburst." He lifted his green hat and ran his hand through his hair, grimacing. "Snobby rich people and I don't get along well, and I can only take so much idiocy before I explode."

"I know how you feel." Sabrina muttered, earning a grin from the two Merry Men.

"I'm surprised you've kept your head on after living with Fun Dip for so long." Little John bellowed.

Robin stared at him curiously, an eyebrow raised. "Fun Dip?"

"He means Puck." Daphne answered, shoving her hat back up. "You like my hat? Merlin gave it to me."

"Fun Dip? Makes him sound insane," A wide smile curved Robin Hood's lips, "it's perfect for him." He turned to Daphne, a mock frown on his face. "What? He gave you a hat and yet he won't give me one of his robes?" His eyes filled with bliss. "Wearing one of those is like being hugged by a giant, fluffy teddy bear."

Sabrina chuckled with the others, her laugh drowned out by Little John's booming guffaws.

Robin turned to her and smiled apologetically. "I'm going to have to cancel our archery lesson today, kid. King Airhead demanded that my men and I patrol the forest for any sneaky Scarlet Hand members."

"Oh, that's okay." Sabrina tired to hide her disappointment. With the war heating up, she had decided it was time for her to learn how to better protect herself and her family. Thanks to Puck, she was pretty good with a sword and for the past few weeks had gotten archery lessons from Robin Hood and Little John.

Robin's eyelid dropped into a slow wink, a corner of his mouth quirking up. "But I'll 'accidentally' leave a bow and some arrows behind so you can practice."

A grin crossed Sabrina's face. "Thanks!"

"Which is probably best for us all." Little John's large fingers brushed his hat. "I'm running out of hats." He said, referring to the five other hats that Sabrina had accidentally shot arrows through.

Robin's white teeth flashed as he grinned up at the large man. "Hey, it's better than it being your head, right?"

"True." Little John nodded.

"Are you going to say goodbye to Uncle Jake too?" Daphne asked, staring hopefully at the two men.

Robin glanced up at Little John, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I've always wanted to ride a dragon."

Little John grinned. "So have I."

"I don't know if they'd let you ride them." An image of Little John and Robin Hood trying to ride a dragon flashed in her mind, causing a wide grin to cross Sabrina's face.

Robin Hood winked at her. "But, if we get on without them knowing . . . "

"Then they won't be able to say no!" Little John finished.

"But wouldn't they get mad?" The softly spoken words barely reached Sabrina's ears over the raucous laughter of Little John and Robin Hood. She turned around to find Little Red Riding Hood standing meekly behind them, nervously fiddling with the edge of her red cloak. The hood that normally covered her face in shadows was down, letting her golden-brown curls blow in the wind. As usual, Sabrina's attention was immediately drawn to the little girl's strange eyes. They were a light, practically sliver, grey color that stood out solemnly against her pale skin.

"What was that?" Robin's smile was kind as he winked at Red. "You're going to have to speak up, kid. I share a cabin with a man who snores like a hurricane." He gestured to Little John.

Little John's snort made Red jump in surprise, her eyes widening. "Please, he's just mad 'cause I beat him at arm wrestling." He held up his huge arm and flexed his muscles. Red's eyes grew to the size of plates at the sight of the man's huge biceps.

"That's only because you cheated!" Robin retorted.

"I did not!" Little John said with mock indignation.

"I pretty sure sneezing in your opponents face is considered cheating." Robin said over Daphne's loud "Ewww!"

Red's features were arranged into a befuddled look as she gazed at the two men. Her eyes were filled with confusion as the two men continued to banter with each other, trying to figure out if they were just joking. Sabrina felt a twinge of pity tug at her heart. The little girl probably wasn't used to being around people.

"Well, fine!" Little John declared, flexing his abnormally large arm muscles again. "Let's have a rematch! They can be our judges." He jerked his head towards the three girls.

Robin eyed Little John's bulging arm and shook his head vigorously. "Nope, you'll just cheat again." He turned on his heel and walked towards the clearing. "C'mon, ladies and very large man, let's go see some dragons!"

Little John winked at the three girls. "He's such a coward."

"I heard that!" Robin shouted over his shoulder.

Little John's grin widened. "And he was just joking about me snoring as loud as a hurricane." He told Red, his deep voice gentle.

"He's right." Robin spun around to face them, walking backwards without any fear of running into someone. His lips quirked into a crooked grin. "I _was _exaggerating. He's really just as loud as a tornado."

"Coming from the man who wears tights." Little John muttered as Robin turned back around.

"What? They make me look sexy." Robin shook his bootie, causing Daphne to giggle and Red's face to turn the same shade of her cloak. "Besides, my fine fellow, you're wearing tights too."

Little John stared down at his legs. "I prefer to call them leggings. They sound . . ." His lips pursed as he tried to think of the right word. "Manlier."

"Uh, not really." Sabrina said, reaching over to yank Daphne's hat up. An electric shock raced up her arm when her fingers touched the soft fabric and she quickly jerked her hand away, before her addiction caused her to do something stupid. A slight frown tugged at the corner of her mouth as she stared at the large hat. Did it have some magical powers or was it just because it had once belonged to a magician?

"You like my hat, Red?" Daphne asked as Robin and Little John began a discussion about the manliness of leggings. The little girl's voice snapped Sabrina out of her trance and she yanked her gaze away from the hat, focusing on Daphne and Red instead,

"It's . . . uh . . ." Little Red Riding Hood's silver eyes flickered nervously to Sabrina as she tried to find the right words. "It's . . . very nice." The words passed her lips in a hushed whisper, making Sabrina strain her ears to try to hear what she said.

Relief washed over Red's face when Daphne grinned at her. "Mer . . ." Her sentence died on her lips when they entered the clearing and she spotted the two dragons resting in the middle. "PANDA!" The word sliced through the air, easily rising above the other noise around them, and Daphne shot towards the dragons.

A smile broke out on Sabrina's face as she stared into the clearing. Two large dragons dominated more than half of the large space, forcing Everafters to the edge of the clearing. The sunlight shimmered and danced alluringly off of the blue and black scales that covered the creatures' large bodies, and glinted off their sharp teeth and claws.

Sabrina ran after her sister towards the Blue and Black Dragon, leaving Red, Robin, and Little John to trail more slowly after her. She reached the dragons just as Daphne threw herself at the Blue Dragon, squeezing one of the creature's large claws in a bear hug.

A deep chuckle rumbled from the Blue Dragon's throat as she stared down at Daphne, amusement glinting in her deep blue eyes. "Well, greetings to you too, Daphne."

Daphne just squealed and ran over to a scowling Black Dragon, hugging his claw just a fiercely as she had hugged the Blue Dragon's. The Black Dragon's hard scaly face softened a bit as he stared down at the little girl. "You may release me now." The dragon's rumbling voice was probably the only voice lower than Little John's.

Daphne released the dragon and grinned up at them, practically shaking with excitement. "I can't believe you two came!" She squealed.

"I can't either." Sabrina smiled at the two dragons, flicking her hand in a wave. "I thought the Dragon King would have sent someone else."

The Blue Dragon shook her large head, "No, he thought it would be wiser if dragons your uncle was better aquatinted with went with him."

Sabrina's smile faltered, the edges of her lips turned down in a frown, as she caught the words the Blue Dragon hadn't said. _The Everafters would less likely kill dragons your uncle knows._

"You like my hat?" Daphne asked as her hat slid down her face again.

The Blue Dragon stared down at the little girl, confusion rippling across her scaly face. "Yes . . . but I did not know it was customary for humans to wear overly large head ornaments."

Daphne frowned at the large creature, her brown eyes flickering to Sabrina as her face twisted into a confused look.

"She said your hat's too big." Sabrina translated.

"Oh!" Daphne's face lit up again. "Well, you see . . ."

As her little sister chatted with the Blue Dragon, Sabrina's eyes slid over to the Black Dragon. His scaly lips were pulled down slightly, revealing small bits of his sharp teeth. His large tail whipped out agitatedly behind him, and his eyes were narrowed to slits.

"What's wrong?" Sabrina asked, walking over to stand beside him. "You seem agitated."

"Your kind does not like us being here." The dragon growled, his eyes scanning the area around them.

"They're not my kind." Sabrina's answer was automatic as she followed his gaze. Some Everafters stood at the edge of the clearing, standing in clusters, as they sent suspicious glances towards the dragons and muttered amongst themselves. Some of them were just curious, staring at the magnificent creatures with bright eyes while others glared daggers at the dragons, their bodies tense and their hands grasping weapons. Their hatred slid off of them in waves, creating a tension in the air that crackled.

"Well, dragons have killed or wounded a lot of their friends." Sabrina turned away from the angry glares and forced her attention on the Black Dragon. She tried to ignore the unease that twisted inside of her. There was only a thin, easily breakable wall that stopped the Everafters from attacking the dragons.

And if that broke?

She shoved the images out of her mind and focused on what the Black Dragon was growling.

"They've killed our kind too." His low voice was tense and his claws dug deep into the earth as he glared back at the Everafters. Sabrina silently pleaded that her uncle would come soon, before a bloodbath started.

The Blue Dragon lifted her tail and rested it reassuringly on the Black Dragon's shoulder. "You said you would behave yourself." Her voice was soft and her touch seemed to calm the Black Dragon.

Some of the tension left his scaly face as he turned towards his spouse. "I am." He growled. "I haven't killed any of them yet."

"If you should decide to kill someone, there's a very pompous woman I might recommend." Sabrina turned her head to see Little John and Robin standing a few feet from the Blue Dragon. Red stood farther away, just a few steps inside the clearing, eyeing the large dragons with a mix of awe and fear.

"Trust me, you can't miss her." Robin grinned at the dragons. His stance was loose and carefree as if standing in front of creatures that could eat him in one gulp didn't bother him at all. "She's rather round, has a large mole on her chin, and looks very much like a clown."

"A demented clown." Little John added.

Daphne stared at the two with wide eyes before turning to the Black Dragon. "Would you really eat Heart?"

"I don't think anything would be dumb enough to eat Heart." Robin winked at the little girl. "She's a real b. . ."

Little John elbowed the archer in the side, cutting off his sentence as he jerked his head towards Sabrina and Daphne. Robin Hood's face broke out into a wide grin. "I was going to say 'bully', but it's nice to know you think the same thing."

"Who are you?" The Black Dragon's growl was low, a threatening undercurrent rumbling his voice.

Robin swept off his hat and bowed flamboyantly. "I, my very large acquaintance, am Robin Hood, and this large fellow," he gestured to Little John with a flick of his wrist, "is my partner in crime, Little John."

"Partner in crime?" The Black Dragon's scaly lips pulled back, revealing long, sharp teeth. "So, you're a criminal." His long tail lashed out behind him as his claws dug deep furrows into the ground.

"Oh, no." The archer grinned up at the dragon, completely unfazed at the sight of those sharp teeth. "We're the good guys. We just steal things from the _bad_ people . . .

"And we give it to the _good_ people." Little John finished.

"Don't worry," Daphne patted the Black Dragon's side, much to his surprise. "They're panda."

The Blue Dragon's already confused expression got even more befuddled. She stared at the two men and cocked her head to the side, her large blue eyes examining them. "They are . . . bears?"

"No! That's my new word!" Daphne explained, impatiently pushing her hat back up. "It means amazingly-awesome."

"Of course." The Blue Dragon nodded her head but Sabrina could still see the confusion rippling in her deep blue eyes.

"Humans." The Black Dragon snorted, a stream of smoke billowing out of his nostrils, much to the amusement of a few Everafters.

Robin Hood copied the dragon's snort, minus the smoke. "Dragons."

"Squirrels." Little John snorted.

Robin Hood nodded his head. "Squirrels are very annoying."

"Oh!" Daphne ran towards Red, grabbing the little girl's hand and practically dragging her back to the dragons. "And this is Red!"

Red's whole body quivered as she stood in front of the dragons. She seemed to shrink in front of the large beasts, her silvery eyes wide with fear, crushing Daphne's hand in a white-knuckled death grip.

Sabrina watched as the Black Dragon leaned towards the little girl, stopping to where she would have been able to touch the shiny black scales the covered his body. His snout was larger than the little girl, causing her to seem even tinier. Her fear filled silvery eyes met large black ones as the dragon examined her, her little body tensing as paralyzing fear raced through her. The Black Dragon's nostrils flared as he sniffed her, his breath pulling at her black curls and red cloak.

The Black Dragon sniffed loudly again and then leaned away from the little girl, his eyes narrowed slightly. "You smell like a witch." His low voice rumbled thoughtfully.

"My . . . my . . . my granny was . . . a witch." Red squeaked out, her whole body shaking like a leaf. Sabrina felt shock swirl inside of her. Surprise at the fact that Red was able to speak in front of such imposing creatures, and at what the Black Dragon had said. Could Little Red Riding Hood have inherited magical powers from her grandmother? Sabrina stared at the little girl, her blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she looked for any signs of magic. But Red seemed . . . normal. Besides being a former nut-job, Red was one of the most normal Everafters Sabrina had met.

The Blue Dragon dipped her head in a bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you all." She said. "I am the Blue Dragon and this is my fire." She wrapped her tail around the Black Dragon's.

"Your fire?" Daphne turned to Sabrina for a definition. Sabrina shrugged at her; she had no idea what the dragon was talking about.

"I believe your word for it is husband, or spouse?" The Blue Dragon inquired.

"Naw, our word for it is man-eating-beast-who-gets-mad-when-you-don't-pick- up-your-dirty-laundry." Robin Hood said, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Little John guffawed. "You'd better make sure Marian doesn't hear you say that!"

A bedeviled look twisted the Blue Dragon's face as she stared at the two green clad men. "Of course." She muttered while the Black Dragon just rolled his eyes.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Sabrina's mouth as her blue eyes roved the edge of the clearing. Most of the Everafters, now sure that the dragons weren't going to burn everything to the ground, had dispersed. Only a few groups remained, among them the soldier Sabrina, the Phoenix and Daphne had encountered. The soldier met Sabrina's gaze with fury filled eyes. Sabrina glared back at him, her fingers curling into fists as she mentally dared him to try anything.

A loud, "SWEET CHEEKS," snapped Sabrina out of her death glare match with the soldier. She turned her attention back to the others to see a grinning Phoenix punch Little John in the shoulder.

Most of the fatigue had left the Phoenix's face. Her pale skin shone and her smile was wide and sincere, not a fake version placed to hide weariness, though her amber eyes still flickered around anxiously._ Quick revitalization must be part of the Phoenix power package, _Sabrina thought.

"SUGAR MUFFIN!" Little John beamed and squeezed the woman into a hug. The Phoenix and Little John liked to joke around with each other about dating, though Sabrina was positive nothing was going to happen between the two of them.

The Phoenix grinned at them all and then her grin vanished, replaced with a frown. "They do not look happy." She muttered, staring at something behind Sabrina.

Sabrina turned around to see Uncle Jake as he made his way towards them, Briar Rose right behind him. Her uncle's blonde hair was sticking up all over the place, like he had ran his hand through it constantly, and his mouth was drawn down into an angry frown.

Two red spots stood out on Briar's cheeks and her features were set into a look of unmovable stubbornness. Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a few wisps hanging around her face. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a large coat on, a bag slung over her shoulder and mud covered boots on her feet. A traveling outfit.

Uncle Jake suddenly stopped and spun around. His back tensed up when he realized Briar was following him. Sabrina couldn't hear what he was saying, but from the angry look on Briar's face, it wasn't something the princess wanted to hear.

"Maybe they've found out that marriage isn't the walk in the park they thought it was." The Phoenix muttered.

Daphne stared up at the magical woman. "Have you been married?" She asked, her hand creeping up to her mouth, ready to insert her palm into her mouth.

"What?" Little John faked indignation. "No man can have my sugar bear."

Sabrina studied the woman out of the corner of her eye, trying to see her reaction to the question. The Phoenix's face remained emotionless, her features carved out of stone.

"Marriage and other emotional showings are frowned upon by my kind." The Phoenix murmured.

"Your kind sounds like they have brooms shoved up their . . ." Little John elbowed Robin again. Robin stared up at the big man, his eyebrows drawing together. "Do you really think I have such a poopy mouth?"

Sabrina turned her attention back to her uncle and his new wife. Uncle Jake turned away from Briar and stalked towards them, Briar following right on his heels.

"Oh, look." Briar's grin was triumphant when she spotted the two dragons. "_Two_ dragons! How convenient."

Uncle Jake glared at the Black Dragon. "Did she ask you to come?" He ground out through gritted teeth.

"I do not take orders from humans." The Black Dragon copied Uncle Jake's angry tone.

Jake sighed and dragged a hand through his hair before he turned towards Briar. "I already told you, Briar," His gentle tone barely concealed the annoyance underneath, "you can't come!"

"And I already told you," Briar stubbornly stuck her chin out, her green eyes blazing. "While I respect your opinion, I'm coming!"

Uncle Jake threw his hands up into the air and turned to Robin. "Please tell her she can't come!"

Robin Hood raised his hands and took a step back. "Uh-uh." He said, shaking his head. "I try to stay away from angering females."

"It never ends well." Little John agreed.

A heavy sigh, the sigh of a man at his wits end, passed Uncle Jake's lips. He turned to Briar Rose and crossed his arms over his chest, meeting her stubborn gaze with an equally stubborn look. "Briar. You. Are. Not. Coming." He spoke the words slowly, putting emphasis on all of them.

Briar's emerald green eyes narrowed. "Yes. I. Am."

"Briar . . ." Jake stared but Briar cut him off.

"No, Jake!" Briar's voice was just a step below shouting. Sabrina stared at the princess in shock. She had never seen the normally mild woman so angry. Her tan cheeks were flushed red and her green eyes sparked with a mixture of fury, indignation, and hurt. "I'm not some princess who can't defend herself! I know how to fight! I know how to take care of myself! I'm not some helpless woman! Give me one good, reasonable, reason why I can't come with you!"

"Because I can't lose you again!" Uncle Jake shouted. The fury in her eyes was quickly replaced with shock as Uncle Jake continued, his voice heavy with pain and guilt. "I can't lose you again." He grabbed her hand, little shocks of electricity coursing through him when his rough skin touched her smooth skin, and stared at her intensely, pleading with her to understand. "I just got you back and . . ." He gulped. "And . . . I don't know what I'd do if I lost you again."

Briar stared at him, her features softening as she gripped his hand. "Did you forget that _I _lost _you_ first?" Her tone was soft but firm as her green eyes searched his face. "And I am not going through that again. For better or for worse? Remember?" She pulled her hand away from her husband's grasp, a smile curving her lips. "I'm going." She turned around and gracefully climbed up the Blue Dragon's lowered neck.

Uncle Jake shook his head and gave the others a small grin, all the fight leaking out of him. "That's my wife."

"Just wait until she gets you about doing the dishes." Robin said the words like a wise old veteran giving advice to a new soldier.

Uncle Jake's lips cracked into full grin. He turned around to find a beaming Daphne standing in front of him.

"You like my hat?" She asked.

Uncle Jake laughed and swept her into a hug, squeezing her tight. "The hat's definitely you, Daph." He said as he let her go and hugged a very surprised Red. He laughed again when he saw the shocked look on her face. "Now that you're a part of this family, you'd better get used to it," he winked at her, "We're a family of huggers."

A happy grin broke out on Red's face, joy brightening her usually solemn grey eyes.

Uncle Jake turned to Sabrina and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight.

"Be careful, Uncle Jake." Sabrina whispered softly so the others couldn't hear. She didn't want Daphne to know she was worried.

Uncle Jake winked at her. "Don't worry, 'Brina. It's only a scouting mission. I should be back before supper tomorrow."

"Oh, Mom said to tell you goodbye and good luck." Sabrina said. "She's helping Nurse Sprat at the infirmary." Sabrina's blue gaze flickered around the clearing, searching for her father and grandmother. "But I don't know where Dad and Granny are."

Uncle Jake climbed non-too-gracefully onto the Black Dragon's lowered neck. He nearly slipped off twice which prompted an irritated growl from the dragon. "Charming wanted to talk to the two of them, so they wished me luck earlier today."

"Probably wanted them to mow the grass," Robin muttered under his breath, "'cause we have to have the camp looking spotless."

Sabrina and the others backed up as the dragons unfurled their large wings, triggering gasps of awe from the Everafters gathered around the edge of the clearing. The dragons began the flap their wings, stirring up large clouds of dust and sending a gust of wind slamming into Sabrina's face. She held her hand over her eyes to block out the dust as the wind whipped her blonde hair behind her.

The dragons flapped their wings again and then leaped into the air, circling around the camp once before flying off. Sabrina watched them go, her hand falling to her side, and worriedly chewed her lip. She knew her uncle was only trying to find out where the Scarlet Hand was holding the dragons but . . . the last time Uncle Jake had fought the Scarlet Hand dragons hadn't gone well.

"Don't worry. They'll be fine." Sabrina turned around to find herself staring into the Phoenix's warm eyes.

"Did you have another vision?" Sabrina asked, fear and curiosity warring inside of her.

The woman shook her head, her gaze turning back to the quickly receding shapes of the dragons. "No, but your uncle is a very resourceful man and so is his wife." Her smile was reassuring as she looked at the girl. "They'll be fine."

Sabrina opened her mouth when Red said, "What is that?"

Sabrina looked at the little girl to see her staring at the sky, her silver eyes narrowed in confusion. Sabrina followed the girl's stare to see an odd looking shape flying through the air, coming towards them. As it got closer, Sabrina realized that it was Puck carrying what looked like . . . a giant chicken leg.

"Is he carrying a chicken leg?" Robin Hood asked, frowning at the quickly approaching fairy.

"I think so." Daphne muttered.

Puck landed in the clearing and carelessly dropped the chicken leg onto the ground. He stalked towards them and stopped in front of Sabrina, sticking a dirty finger in her face. "You lied!" He accused. His blonde hair was a mess of twigs and blackened leaves, and a dark smudge of soot stood out against his far fairy skin like a bruise.

Sabrina took a step back. "No, I didn't!" She snarled and then paused. "What did I supposedly lie about?"

Puck glared at her. "You said the Hag's house was at the end of the path. I went to the end of the path and there was no house!" His emerald green eyes were crossed slightly as he glared at her, as if he was staring at the spot between her eyes instead of really looking at her.

"Maybe Baba Yaga put a cloaking device on the house." Daphne suggested.

Puck rolled his eyes. "I think I would have noticed if the house was wearing a cloak, marshmallow." He glared at Sabrina. "The only obvious explanation is that you lied!"

"Or maybe you got lost!" Sabrina growled. She curled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her skin to distract her from losing herself in the fairy's green gaze. Instead she focused on the plump worm that was sticking out of the fairy's hair.

"I've lived in that forest for ten years!" The fairy snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. "I don't get lost."

Sabrina scoffed. "Then why did you need me to tell you where the house was?"

"Do you like my hat, Puck?" Daphne interjected quickly before the two could strangle each other.

Puck turned to look at the little girl, watching as the hat slid down her face again. His lips curled into a impish grin as he reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a roll of duct tape. "If you hold still, I can make sure that hat never slides down your face again."

Daphne held up her hands and took a step back, shaking her head vigorously. "I'm not letting you come anywhere near me with that!"

"You carry duct tape in your pocket?" For some reason, that fact frightened Sabrina.

Puck's mischievous grin widened. "Among other things."

"And that, ladies and gentleman, is way I lock my door at night." Robin Hood announced.

Puck looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "The door's not the only way into a cabin." He spoke like he was explaining something to a little kid.

Little John threw up his hands. "Well, I'm never sleeping again."

"WAIT A SECOND!" The Phoenix shouted. "If you didn't see the house, then where'd you get the chicken leg?"

Puck's green eyes lit up. "Oh, it was so awesome. I was flying around trying to find the house when there was this loud BOOM!" His shout caused Red to jump. "When I finally made it to the explosion, there was this whole tunnel of trees burnt to a crisp and a bunch of cool stuff was just lying around on the ground. There was a chair, a broken T.V., some useless books . . ."

The Phoenix held up her hands, stopping the fairy midsentence. "So, technically, you found the _ruins_ of a house."

Puck frowned, his forehead bunching in thought. "Well, yeah, I guess I did."

Little John groaned and buried his face in his large hands. "Oh, sweet cheese biscuits."

"You found the ruins of a house and you didn't think to tell us?" The fairy's idiocy made Sabrina want to scream. How could she have ever even liked him?

Puck glared at her and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "You never asked."

"Did you see any bodies, or anyone around?" The Phoenix's eyes flickered with worry.

Puck shook his head. "There was nothing around. No birds, no animals, nothing." He plucked the worm out of his hair, sniffed it, and then tossed it onto the ground.

"That's not good." Robin Hood's face was twisted into an expression of worry and shock. "What could have possibly destroyed the witch's home?" He asked, turning to the Phoenix.

The woman shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. "I have no idea." She muttered. "But whatever it is, it must be powerful."

"And it definitely isn't on our side." Little John growled.

Sabrina's lips pulled down into a frown and she glanced at Daphne. The little girl's brown eyes mirrored the worried look in Sabrina's. "Do you think it could have been the Scarlet Hand?" Sabrina asked as memories from when she had traveled to the future paraded through her mind.

"No, the Easter Bunny did it." Puck's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Of course they did it!" He sneered at her and then quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact.

"Do you think . . . she's dead?" Daphne asked before Sabrina could snap at the fairy.

The Phoenix didn't answer. Her amber eyes were staring ahead, looking over the wall and at the tips of the trees that were barely visible over the wooden spikes.

"Phoenix?" Sabrina asked again.

The Phoenix blinked and turned her head towards Sabrina. "Huh? Oh . . .I don't know." The woman answered distractedly.

"Well, we have to tell the others." Robin Hood said. "Little John and I will get Arthur and his men."

"Puck, Sabrina, Red and I can get our family and Charming." Daphne offered, her brown eyes worried.

Robin Hood nodded his head and ran out of the clearing, Little John hot on his heels.

Daphne grabbed Red's hand and started to walk towards one of the pathways that branched off the main clearing. "We should check the cabin first." She shouted over her shoulder.

Puck took a step towards them and then stopped, his green eyes glancing over to Sabrina. He hesitated for an instant as their eyes locked, his green ones filled with uncertainty. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, and then he abruptly turned and ran after the girls.

Sabrina watched them go, trying to ignore the hurt that twisted inside of her. So, what? The smelly, immature fairy didn't like her! Who cared?

She turned to look at the Phoenix, her eyes narrowing worriedly. The Phoenix was still staring towards the direction of the woods, a small frown pulling down the edges of her lips. Her eyes were deep, swirling amber pools of confusion and disbelief. "Is everything okay?" Sabrina asked slowly, not sure she wanted an answer.

The woman glanced at her briefly before staring up at the sky, her frown deepening. "I don't know." Her voice was soft and held an unfamiliar uncertainty. "I really don't know."


	4. A Chat Over Broken Glass

**A/N-** **I know, I'm a horrible updater and I'm truly sorry for that. :(**

**In other news, this story got nominated for the Best Sisters Grimm Story of 2011, which has to be one of the greatest birthday presents ever! I just want to take the time to thank all those who voted or might vote for this story. You guys are extremely awesome and part of the reason why I finally updated this chapter. It's really encouraging to know that people think this story is good enough to be placed up there with all those other great stories. And for that, I am eternally grateful. :)**

**And thanks for everyone who voted for the bad guy's power! I really appreciate it!**

**Puck may seem OOC in this chapter, but a girl smart Puck never really made any sense to me . . .**

* * *

><p>Jagged shards of glass coated the entire wall, creating a glittering mosaic that arrogantly defied reality. Instead of reflecting the characteristics of the room, each smooth surface depicted a different setting, all ranging from a plush office to a dirty workshop, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the world that waited just outside of this prison.<p>

In comparison to the magical wall, the rest of the room was considerably less enchanting. With walls that were draped in silky black curtains and a wooden floor that shone with polished perfection, the area was an almost exact copy of the room it hid behind, the Room of Reflections.

He stared intently at the array of mirrors, small body tense and erect. Like every other spot in the Hall of Wonders, his black suit was immaculate, not a wrinkle or piece of dust to be found amidst the dark fabric. His eyes held a cold, calculating look, the dark orbs devoid of the false warmth that visited them whenever company entered his domain. The corners of his lips were pulled down into a slight frown, the broad smile that was occasionally forced to cross his face gone. His fake persona, Guardian of the Mirror and friend of the Grimms, fell away in the comforts of the private room, his real self rising to the surface.

Master of the Scarlet Hand.

Mirror's eyes narrowed into a look that frightened the woman peering at him through a slice of glass. Gaudy makeup covered every inch of her face, creating a mask of terror instead of beauty. The squinty eyes that crouched under the thick layer of eye-shadow were filled with a hesitant fear that sent a warm wave of pleasure coursing through him.

"What is it, Heart?" His tone, hard and cold made it clear that he was displeased at the interruption.

"I am terribly sorry for disturbing you, Master. It's just the _Sheriff,_" Her voice rose slightly on the word, making sure he knew that all the blame lay solely with Nottingham, "still hasn't come back yet. Either that means the idiot got lost, was eaten by a dragon, or Demetri still hasn't shown up with the potion yet."

"And?" One eyebrow rose in question.

"Are you sure we can trust that man?" The words rushed past her lips in an almost inaudible hurry. She stared at him as her words hung in the silent air, pride fighting against her obvious respect and fear for her leader.

Mirror's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Are you distrusting my judgment, Heart?" Energy crackled in the air around him, forming a sinister accompaniment to his voice. "Do you not think me capable of choosing my followers?"

The mayor flinched and quickly tried to backtrack. "No, sir! I would never think to do such a thing! It's just that Nottingham had his suspicions . . .and that man doesn't seem to care about the war, or my authority over him!" Anger twisted her features as her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursing in a way that reminded him of a sullen child.

So that's the real reason why she had contacted him. Mirror resisted the urge to smack his head against a wall as she continued to blabber out accusations. Demetri probably blew off every command the new mayor gave, which obviously sent her into a tantrum.

Mirror lifted his hand, cutting off the flow of words. "I'll deal with Demetri." The pouting look immediately left, replaced by the triumphant look of a child that had just successfully tattle-taled to an adult. "But, next time, Heart," The chill radiating from his eyes made the woman shrink back, "do not question my judgment."

"Yes, Master." Heart almost fell over herself in her hurry to leave the room. As soon as the door slammed shut behind her, the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk, a familiar sense of power swirling through him.

Dealing with a bunch of simpletons was a small price to pay for the euphoric feeling that crashed through him whenever his eyes landed on that wall of broken glass, the pieces all leading to people who would willingly, fearfully, follow his every command, no matter how ridiculous. Finally, people were looking to him for guidance, bestowing the respect he obviously deserved.

The smirk evolved into a full smile, the smooth motion lacking warmth and kindness.

And, as soon as he gained his freedom, the whole world will be forced to respect him.

"_Are you sure we can trust that man?"_

Heart's words broke through the sense of power that clouded his thoughts, snapping him back to present matters. His smile slowly started to dissolve as the question spun around his mind.

Truthfully, he didn't know if Demetri could be trusted or not. The whole circumstance of Demetri lending his assistance to the Scarlet Hand had always seemed a little flimsy to the Master. But, when a man appears, offering a chance to control one of the most powerful creatures in the world for the mere price of a favor, who was he to deny it because it felt too coincidental?

Mirror frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. In the two weeks that Demetri had been in Ferryport Landing, Mirror had never once met him or seen what he was capable of, though stories of the man's odd power had reached his ears. But Demetri certainly wasn't as powerf. . .

Mirror felt his presence a split second before the voice filled the silent room. The sudden wave of chills that raced down his spin, slicing through his thoughts, and the slight darkening of the atmosphere alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone anymore.

"You must be Demetri." His eyes stayed focused on the mirrors in front of him, not once straying to the man that now took up the once empty space beside him.

"You're a lot more perceptive than your soldiers." A tinge of amusement swirled around Demetri's words and a low whistle filled the air as he eyed the mini portals. "So many loyal followers. I wonder if they know their master doesn't care about their freedom, as long as he gets his."

"The pleasure of helping me achieve my freedom will be payment enough." He turned his head to the side, making sure his features didn't betray any emotion. He shoved all questions about the man's sudden appearance to the back of his mind for later consideration, refusing to give Demetri the pleasure of confusing him. "Mayor Heart informed me of you tendency to pop up unannounced." He said. "I suggest you knock next time."

He surreptitiously scrutinized Demetri, evaluating the power that was rolling off of him and comparing it to his own. His stance shifted slightly, his shoulders becoming a firm line. Demetri may be powerful, but so was he and he would gladly put the man in his place.

Demetri's pale eyes slid from the wall of glass to meet his gaze and he raised an eyebrow. "You're not hiding anything from me, are you, Mirror?"

"Of course not. There is no need to hide anything from you." A sickly polite tone rode the currents of his words, hiding the subtle barb underneath. "What do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

The only sign that Demetri had caught the insult was the slight smirk that curled his lips. "I decided it was time to fulfill the terms of our arrangement." He reached into his coat pocket, pulling a small vial from the depths of the black fabric. He held it up so Mirror could see the clear liquid that sloshed around the inside of the glass. "If you want those dragons to stay compliantly drugged you have to do something for me."

Mirror shook his head, a regretful sigh blowing past his lips, the noise sounding fake in the room. "I sincerely apologize for the apparent miscommunication. When I agreed to do you a favor for supplying the potion, I thought I had made it clear that _I _would be the one to decide what the favor was and when _I_ would bestow it to you. Terribly sorry." His false apology hovered in the air as Mirror eyed his companion, gently pushing to see how much power he held over the man.

"Yes, it is disappointing when people fail to have the intelligence to make their intentions clear." Demetri's gaze turned back to the wall of glass, his features taking on an almost appreciative look. He leaned forward until his face was inches away from one of the pieces, peering into Oz's workshop. "It's very interesting, this set up you have here. A bunch of mirrors inside a mirror." He lifted a pale finger and slowly ran it down the smooth surface, a line of darkness, almost like ink, trailing after it. A look Mirror couldn't quite decipher crossed his face as he mumbled, "Pretty cool."

He straightened and turned back to Mirror, ignoring the black line that was now breaking and spider-webbing across the glass. A chilling curiosity swirled in his blue eyes as he stared at the smaller man. "I wonder, if your mirror broke, would you be trapped in here forever? Or would you shatter into a thousand pieces along with the glass?" With a flick of his hand, the mini portal splintered, raining to the ground with a tinkle that was sadistic in its sweetness.

Mirror kept his face impassive, forcing the muscles that screamed with the desire to blast the man beside him to bits stiff at his sides. The small smirk on Demetri's face and the eyes that laughed at him filled Mirror with an indignant rage; an emotion that he quickly quelled, forcing himself to focus on his next move.

This whole conversation was a game, a very deadly game between two powerful men trying to judge the other's superiority. Hide your emotions, command and yet be polite, find the subtle insults and threats in the softly spoken sentences, analyze each word. Be careful, one wrong step and you could end up like broken glass.

"I'm afraid the answer to your question will forever remain unanswered. Soon, I will be free from this cursed mirror." A threat sharpened the gently spoken words as he eyed Demetri, all too aware of the broken glass that now littered the floor. His arms moved behind his back to clasp into a tight fist. "Since I am feeling gracious, I will _consider_ doing your favor. What is it?"

"There is a certain pirate, Captain Hook, who has something I need. I want you to retrieve it from him."

"And how do you propose I do that?"

Demetri twirled the potion bottle around his long fingers. "You can either order him to come here or see if he can pass it through one of those portals." The vial stopped twirling. "But I can always find another way if that proves to be too much of a challenge for you."

"I'm afraid that is completely impossible," Mirror said, anger curling inside of him, "for me and anyone else."

Demetri's eyebrows rose, his voice taking on a falsely shocked tone that poorly hid the chuckling amusement. "But he is part of your army, yes? Surely, since you're his master, he would willingly do whatever you commanded."

Mirror's frown took on a slightly irritated edge. "That is not the issue. In case you are forgetful of the facts of that famous fairytale, Captain Hook is stuck on Neverland with a boat that cannot sail or fly. Therefore, your request cannot be fulfilled." He couldn't help but relish in the fact that Demetri wouldn't be getting what he wanted.

"Have you forgotten where you live?" Demetri smiled at him, talking as one would do to a child. "This is the Hall of Wonders. Since you're the sole caretaker of this place, you should be able to find something in here to solve that dilemma."

_Caretaker. _The word hovered in the air like a malevolent beast, covering Mirror's vision in a hazy red rage. Anger roared in his ears and his fingers curled into tight fists. How dare that insolent little freak . . .

And then those icy blue eyes, glinting with cruel merriment, cut through the thick haze of anger that had settled over the Master, a wave of understanding taking its place.

Demetri was baiting him, _trying_ to make him angry.

He forced himself to shove the anger back, carefully arranging his features to display a mask of indifference, and uncurled his hands.

"Perhaps." Mirror's voice came out calm, a contradiction to the fury that still coursed through his veins. "Though, since I don't require the help of pirates to achieve my goal, I may not have time to look." He turned around, not waiting for the other man to speak, and walked over to a small table, the only furniture in the room.

A map of Ferryport Landing, complete with hidden caves and secret trails, covered the table's wooden surface. A set of tiny soldiers, a gift from the young Grimm in hopes that he could somehow amuse himself with the worthless toys, marked the position of Charming's and his army, supplying Mirror with the perfect way to direct his troops.

"You'll find time."

A command, not a suggestion. Mirror frowned down at the map. "And what exactly does Hook have that you so desperately want?"

"That does not concern you." Demetri replied.

Mirror put his hands on the table, a motion that was just below a slam, his eyes narrowing, He could feel the energy crackling and popping in the air, begging him to disintegrate Demetri. "This it _my_ town." His voice was hard and cold, the voice of a leader. "_Everything_ that goes on inside of it is my business and it would behoove you to remember that."

"Of course." Amusement glinted in his pale irises as Demetri walked over to the table, standing on the opposite side of Mirror. As the other man picked up a toy soldier, the Master of the Scarlet Hand was suddenly hit with the realization that Demetri was only enduring his company because it was entertaining to him, like a person watching a dog chase its tail. It would have been easier to ask Heart about the favor, but no, Demetri had wanted to see the glorious Master for himself.

"If you must know," Demetri's voice cut through the thoughts that were kindling the rage inside of him, "the pirate owns a book, one of the Grimms' journals, that contains information that pertains only to me."

Mirror crossed his arms over his chest, watching the other man turn the soldier around in his hand. "Which Grimm?"

"Jakob."

Jakob Grimm. The one he didn't know anything about. "When you get the book, you will show it to me. Understand?" He used his anger to harden his tone into a command.

Demetri didn't bother looking up from the toy, a smile curving his lips. "If it pleases you."

"Good." Mirror walked around the table and headed for the door, signaling that the meeting was over. If he was going to find something to get Hook here he would need one of the Grimms to bring him the keys. The blasted people didn't even entrust him with a set of his own . . .

An idea suddenly formed in his head, slowing his footsteps until he came to a complete halt. Why not use Demetri to his own advantage?

The Master turned around, standing just in front of the doorway. "I must warn you, the Grimms will most like try to stop whatever it is you're doing, especially the young ones. They have a reputation of being nuisances."

Demetri looked up, his grin revealing a flash of teeth. "Nuisances can easily be turned into aids. All you have to know is the right buttons to push." He began tossing the soldier into the air.

"Unless you're hoping what you seek is in this town, it might be best to kill them now."

"If they, or anyone else, gets in my way, then I will kill them. If they don't then they will continue to be your problem and your's alone. And as for the barrier problem, I'll deal with that when the time comes." He cocked his head to the side, black hair spilling across his forehead as he considered the man in front of him. "Will you be able to?"

"Excuse me?"

"Will you be able to kill them? Or because of the many years you spent in their service, will your emotions get in the way?" The toy soldier did a few fancy flips before landing back in his palm, only to be sent twirling into the air again.

Mirror's countenance turned to stone, his eyes becoming dark holes empty of feeling. "I am merely a useful tool, created for the sole purpose of serving those who can manage to string a rhyme together. I am not allowed to feel emotion." A bitter tone filled his voice. "I'm warning you, do not underestimate the Grimms."

"They have to prove that they are capable of being underestimated first." Demetri suddenly frowned. A flicker of emotion flashed across his face but was gone before Mirror could place it. "Is there another Phoenix in this town?"

"Yes, she helps the Grimms." Mirror's eyes narrowed as the wheels in his brain turned, trying to find a connection between the fun loving woman he had briefly met and this dark man who took pleasure in the suffering of others.

Demetri's eyes bored into him, an odd intensity burning in the icy orbs. "She? What's her name?"

"She hasn't told them yet." Mirror answered shortly, annoyed at the man's brusque tone. "Why? Do you think you know her?"

Demetri gave him a wide smile, a cruel glint sparking in his eyes. As quickly as it had come, the strange intensity was gone. "I know all of them."

"Is she capable of sensing you too?"

Demetri shrugged as he caught the toy soldier. "If she can, she won't know it. Technically, I'm not a phoenix." His other hand rose, the pale fingers brushing the blood red amulet that hung around his neck.

"Right." Mirror frowned at him, filing the information away to be looked at later. "I want you to go to the cave and deliver the potion to the dragons, now." He put as much authority into his voice as he could. "Nottingham probably had a claustrophobic attack by now, that is, if the dragons, or that 'friend' of yours, hasn't killed him yet." He started to leave before another matter stopped him. "Oh, and from now on, you are to follow every command that Heart and I give you."

Demetri stared at him, his eyes narrowing a hair. "I am not a part of your army." The amusement that usually followed his words was gone, replaced by a hard chill. "I do not care about your war, and I do not follow any orders from you or anyone else." The two men stared at each other, power and tension causing the air to crackle. "Make sure Hook is here tonight, or our deal is off." With a flick of his hand, a streak of shadow shot through the air, slicing the toy in half as if began its descent. "Understand?"

Mirror stared at the man, not finding a trace of amusement in his chilling gaze. "Perfectly." The words hardly made it past his tight lips. "I believe it is time for you to leave. _Now._"

Demetri smiled, the halved soldier lying on the ground beside his shoe. "As you wish." He bent forward in a small, mocking bow before stepping back into a shadow draped corner. The Master of the Scarlet Hand watched as the darkness seemed to swallow the man whole . . .and then he was gone.

All the tension suddenly left the small man's body, his shoulders going slack as he ran his fingers over his smooth scalp, anger making the digits shake. He was starting to realize that all those stories about Demetri hadn't been made up.

The fury inside of him rose, blue electricity curling around his fingers. He needed to learn as much as he could about Demetri's powers, and then he would deal with the man accordingly.

"MIIIIRRRRROOOOORRR!"

The voice drifted down the hallway, faint, but loud enough to reach his ears. Being the keeper of the Hall of Wonders, he had the ability of hearing every word that was spoken in his domain, even if it was at the other end of the long hallway.

"Hey, Mirror! Where are you?" Daphne's voice held the ever present happiness that occasionally drove him insane.

And occasionally made him smile.

"I want to show you my hat! It's so panda!"

He stared down the hallway, not quite registering her words, his mind filled with images of shattered glass and toy soldiers sliced cleanly in two.

"Coming, kiddo." He automatically amplified his voice so that it echoed down the hallway, making his way to the trolley that patiently waited for him.

He was beginning to think that accepting Demetri's help had been a very bad idea.

* * *

><p>What was wrong with him?<p>

Puck paced back and forth in the small living room, his footsteps muffled on the thin carpet that covered half of the room. After informing everyone about Baba Yaga's toasted house, Charming had called together a meeting just to tell them that there was nothing they could do about it. He believed that the Scarlet Hand was going to attack at any minute and he couldn't send any soldiers searching the woods for a witch. Once the meeting was over, everyone went their separate ways, leaving Puck alone in the cabin.

His hair stuck up in random directions, the result of frustrated fingers running through the golden locks too many times. His features were twisted into a confused mask, flashes of irritation, worry, and frustration flickering in his green eyes.

He was the Trickster King! Ruler of Misfits, Representative of Delinquents, President of Procrastinators, and Hero to Soap-a-holics everywhere! He was a villain of the worst kind!

. . .then how did Sabrina Grimm, a simple human girl, manage to reduce the mighty Trickster King to a bumbling idiot?

A frustrated sound, a mix between a growl and a groan, blew past the fairy's lips as he spun around on his heel and began to circumnavigate the small coffee table that dominated the middle of the room. His long fingers twitched with the urge to grab something, _anything_, to keep him distracted from his thoughts.

Why couldn't he talk to her? He'd never had that problem before, with Grimm or any other girl. With Moth he had even wished he didn't have to talk.

Why couldn't he look at her without his stomach swirling with nervous giddiness? The mere sight of her should fill his mind with a thousand pranks! Her long blond hair should have him thinking about what it would look like it he covered it in gunk or chopped it all off. Her blue eyes should fill him with excitement at the prospect of having them glaring at him with rage over a successfully pulled prank!

Instead, just being in the same room with the thing people kept trying to pass off as a girl turned him into a mushy pile of . . . mush! His palms would grow sweaty every time his eyes landed on her. His heart rate would speed up the way it usually only did whenever he spotted a promising pile of unidentified gunk. His tongue would suddenly swell 'til it touched the top of his incredibly dry mouth and his thoughts would slam into each other, forming a jumbled pile of confusion that made it impossible for him to remember what he was going to say.

This shouldn't be happening! She was _Grimm!_ Ugly, stupid, stubborn, clean Grimm! She shouldn't be making him feel nervous or have him worrying over what to say or do!

But she did, and there was only one reasonable explanation.

He had a bad case of the cooties.

Another groan passed his lips and he quickly snatched up a pillow from one of the disgustingly floral couches the Old Lady had insisted they place in the room. Elvis lazily lifted his head from his spot behind the chair, the couch's equally ugly twin, and watched the freaked out fairy through large bored eyes.

Puck's pace picked up until he was practically running around the coffee table, his fingers picking at the fringe that decorated the pillow, happy now that they had something to do.

He eyes narrowed, the wheels in his brain turning faster then they ever had before as he tried to find a solution to his problem. He knew it all started right after the wedding, right after they had kiss . . .

The sound of the door opening sliced through the fairy's thoughts, and he spun around, his eyes as wide as saucers.

"Veron . . ." A very bemused Phoenix stood in the doorway, the smile on her face dimming as she took in the boy's frazzled appearance, her eyes filled with confusion. ". . .ica"

Puck's cheeks stained bright red and his eyes filled with a guilty embarrassment as if the woman could see the image of the kiss that had just flashed through his head.

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO KNOCK!" He screamed, throwing the pillow at her.

The fluffy projectile bounced harmlessly off her and fell to the ground without a sound. The Phoenix stared down at the fallen weapon, the only sound being Elvis's indignant _humph_ as he tried to return to his nap, and then her eyes drifted up to stare at Puck, one red eyebrow raised. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, like you really care." Puck snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest, green eyes straying across the room in an attempt to avoid the amber gaze that sought them out. He felt as if she could stare right through him and straight to the thoughts that grumbled inside his pounding brain.

The slightly distracted look that had smoldered inside her eyes all day was momentarily drowned out by concern. "Why would I waste my breath asking a question when I didn't care what the answer was?" She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest, a cool wind blowing through the still open door to smack against her back.

A small frown tugged down the corner of her lips as she eyed the boy. She'd never seen the usually arrogant fairy so . . .nervous. His eyes flickered all over the room, he was blushing furiously, and his fingers were twisting together anxiously.

Something was definitely wrong with him and it sent a bunch of warning bells ringing throughout her.

Her frown deepened as she pushed herself off the doorframe. "Maybe I should go get Reld . . ."

"NO!" Puck's desperate shout made the woman freeze. Faster than humanly possible, the fairy lunged across the room, grabbed her arm, jerked her inside, and slammed the door shut.

The boy spun around and leaned his back against the door, blocking the Phoenix's exit. His eyes were as wide as plates as he stared at her. "No!" He repeated, ignoring Elvis's bark of angry protest at the loud noise. "You can't tell anyone!"

The woman blinked at him, shock mixing with the increasing worry that dominated her features. "Are you okay? Are you sick or something?"

Puck snorted, his usual arrogant attitude swimming to the surface. "Everafters don't get sick." The sneer that curled his lips quickly morphed into an angry scowl. How was he going to explain this to her?"

"Puck, you can tell me what's wrong."

Her worried tone fell on deaf ears. Puck was too busy trying to decide what to do to listen to her. He really didn't want to tell her about his cootie infection, the knowledge that the great Trickster King was deathly ill might send her into a comma*, but his brain was beginning to hurt from the unusual amount of serious thinking he was inflicting on it. His eyes narrowed as he took in the woman in front of him. Besides, she was a girl, so maybe she knew the secret to getting rid of the cooties. . .

"PUCK!" The Phoenix's voice was just an inch below a shout, breaking through Puck's thoughts. The woman lowered her voice, ignoring the death glare that the Great Dane was shooting her. "I can always go get Relda or Sabri . . ."

"You're a girl, right?" Puck blurted out, stopping her before she could say Grimm's name.

The Phoenix blinked at him, her expression changing from worry to annoyance. "No, I'm not." Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Puck's face twisted with disgust. "Then what are you?"

The woman rolled her eyes in exasperation, already regretting trying to initiate a conversation. "Of course I'm a girl! Why does my gender matter?"

"It means you might be the only one who can help me!" An unnaturally serious look crossed the boy's features, an expression that seemed alien on the normally mischievous face. "If you must know," His green eyes slid to the left and right as he took a step forward, lowering his voice. "I've been the victim of a very deadly curse."

Alarm flashed across the Phoenix's face. "What?" Her voice lowered when Puck brought his finger to his lips. "You've been cursed?" An angered look filed her eyes, mingling with worry, and fire crackled dangerously around her fingers. "Who cursed you?"

Puck paused a moment for dramatic effect before saying,"The beast they call Sabrina Grimm."

The Phoenix blinked at him as the information sank in, the fire immediately dying. "You're telling me that Sabrina cursed you?" A smile struggled to break across her face as she imagined what the girl had done in retaliation to all the pranks Puck played on her. "What exactly is this 'curse'?"

"She gave me the cooties!" The fairy managed to spit the word out in disgust and look terrified of it at the same time.

"The cooties?" For a few seconds the woman appeared flabbergasted, her brow furrowing as she tried to understand, and then realization hit. "Coot . . .oh! Oh, you mean you like . . .oh, dear." She started to back away, her head shaking in vigorous denial. "No, no, no, no, no. I am _not_ the person you want to talk to about this. . ."

In a flash, Puck's trusty sword was clutched in his hand, the wooden tip pointing threateningly at the Phoenix. "You take one step out of this place without telling me how to get rid of them and I'll hang you by your toes and sick my minions on you!" His other hand drifted towards his pocket where the whistle patiently waited.

"Puck. . ." The Phoenix stared at the wooden tip dubiously, a knot forming in her stomach. "I wish I could help you but. . . "

"There has to be something!" The fairy's voice rose slightly, an almost desperate tone twisting around his words. "A potion or a spell . . .or _something_ to get rid of this curse 'cause I can't take it anymore! I can't talk around her or think of any good pranks and my _head!" _A loud groan accompanied his words. "People aren't supposed to think this much!"

His emerald green eyes clashed with her amber ones for a few wrenching seconds, and then resignation washed over her pale features. "A curse, huh?" A humorless smile touched her lips as she turned away from the boy. "That's a perfect description." She plopped down onto the couch, putting her boots on the coffee table as her body sank comfortably into the plush cushions. "But it's not something you can get rid of."

"What?" He let his sword hand fall down, the weapon bumping lightly against his thigh. Agitation caused his eyebrows to pull together and his lips to turn down. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

"What's wrong, exactly? Didn't you two kiss at the wedding?"

"What! No! Never!" A look of pure horror and disgust crossed the fairy's face. "Why would you think that?"

"Maybe because I saw you two smooching."

His eyes narrowed in indignation. "For your information, _she_ kissed me!" His chest puffed out in the all familiar _I'm great_ pose he had come to perfect. "You can't blame her. My amazingly good looks make it hard for anyone to resist me." He grinned at her. "I bet you're finding it hard to resist, too."

"That's disturbing in every sense of the word." The Phoenix put her elbow on the couch's arm and leaned her head on her hand, an uneasy feeling twisting inside of her. "So, if you . . .she kissed you, then what's the problem?"

Puck's smirk dissolved into a confused frown. His drifted down to his sword, twirling it around in his palm, and mumbled, "She didn't punch me this time."

The Phoenix lifted her head from her hand to frown at the boy. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"I don't know! The last time . . .she kissed me, she punched me in the stomach and then everything went on like normal, but now. . . you're the girl, you tell me!" He snapped, eyes flashing with frustration.

"Well, usually it is. . .wait, you two kissed before?" An incredulous expression crossed the woman's face. "Don't you think that's taking it a little too fast?"

"People in Central Park did it all the time!" Puck replied defensively. "And most of the guys didn't get hit, some even got married," He shuddered at the word. "The only thing I don't know is what they do in-between."

The Phoenix shifted uncomfortably on the couch, the conversation was unearthing too many memories. "They get to know each other." Her voice came out just above a whisper.

"Get to know each other?" The fairy repeated.

"Yeah." She shook her head and forced herself to focus on the present. "They spend time together, talk to each other, stuff like that." The Phoenix looked at him, her brow furrowing. "You're telling me that you've been alive for over four thousand years and you've never liked a girl before?"

"Of course not! Girls are nasty, clean, cootie giving monsters!"

The Phoenix blinked at the boy before rubbing her suddenly throbbing temples. This had to be the most confusing conversation she had ever had. "I thought Daphne told me you had a fiancé?"

A violent shudder shook Puck and his lips curled with disgust. "Ugh, Moth. My mother would always arrange meetings and then force me to go. I had _nothing_ to do with that." He looked at her, confusion swirling in his eyes as he began pacing. "But how am I supposed to get to know Grimm if the virus won't let me talk to her?"

"Don't worry about it, Puck." The Phoenix sat up straighter, preparing to make her escape. "Don't worry about what to say, where to look, or what to do. Just be yourself."

"Be myself?" He stopped moving, staring at her with an utterly confused look.

The woman nodded her head, a deep desire to get away from this conversation churning inside of her. "If you spend the majority of your time with her worrying over what to do, then it's not right. You shouldn't have to worry about her liking you for who you are."

"I'm not worried about that! Who wouldn't like me?" The fairy crossed his arms over his chest. 'But . . .what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" The uneasiness that had slowly been building up inside of her was now evident in the way her eyes avoided his. "Make her a gift, stop pranking her. . ."

Puck eyes narrowed. "If I can't prank her then I'll have to prank everyone else."

" . . .continue to prank her, get her flowers or chocolates, focus on being her friend."

"And then what?"

The Phoenix sighed. "And then either the cooties go away, or they don't."

The boy's lips pursed slightly, his eyebrows drawing together as he mulled her words over, and then the thoughtful look broke to reveal the laziness underneath. "But that sounds like so much _work!_" His voice took on a groaning note as he collapsed into a nearby chair, the perfect picture of someone who had just spent all day toiling under the hot sun.

The Phoenix, seeing her chance at freedom, started to get off the couch. Puck's head snapped towards her, his eyes glaring. "You can't leave yet!"

"Uh-uh." The woman practically ran to the door, shaking her head vigorously. "This love doctor has reached her limit."

"But I still don't . . ."

The Phoenix turned around, her hand placed firmly on the doorknob. "Then ask Jacob, or Robin Hood. They should be able to tell you how they got over the cootie curse but I really can't help you anymore." She looked at the boy over her shoulder as she stepped outside. "Just, if you value your life, don't ask Henry."

The door slammed shut and the fairy's groan fell on empty air. Now he was going to have to be _nice_ to Grimm? How was he going to do that? He couldn't even talk to her . . .because of the sole reason that her ugliness was just too much for one devilishly handsome fairy to handle, even one as awesome as himself.

Another groan forced its way past his lips and he buried his face into the chair's arm. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything to her!"

The only answer to his muffled words was the sound of Elvis snoring.

Puck sat up slowly, his movement mimicking that of a dying man, and stared out the window. The pane of glass offered a view of a small clearing close to the fort wall. Sabrina was standing a few feet in front of the thick, wooden planks that separated the camp from the rest of the forest, a large bow in her hand.

He watched as she notched an arrow, pulled the string back, and then, after a moment of concentration, let it go only to watch it miss the target she had taped to the wall. He smirked, picturing the look of angry frustration that was undoubtedly making its way across her face.

_Grimm is way too uptight, _he thought, staring down at the wooden sword in his hand. His body suddenly tensed up as a plan formed in his brain. _And as her friend, I should try to loosen her up a bit._

His eyes drifted to the coffee table where the sword's twin rested. A devious grin slowly curved his lips, his emerald green eyes lighting up with glee.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

><p>The face in the small mirror faded away, the booming voice echoing around the room in its absence. Captain Hook stared down at the dim and dirty vanity mirror that was clutched tightly in his hand, the once beautiful, silver rim and handle tarnished by the salty sea water. Despite the lack of beauty, the mirror was treasured more than anything else on the ship. That circle of glass was his only source to the world outside of Neverland, his only link to the Master of the Scarlet Hand.<p>

His eyes focused solely on that mirror, the surface now reflecting his face instead of the Master's, and nothing else, not even the portly man that was nervously standing beside the cabin door.

Clothed in a blue and white striped shirt that didn't quite cover his protruding belly, and ripped up shorts, Smee resembled a nervous deck hand more than a first mate. He warily watched as his captain's thin mustache twitched, a sure sign of excitement . . .or anger. . .and sometimes hunger . . .and annoyance. . .and occasionally a warning of a coming sneeze, to which he should promptly say "bless you."

Smee had never thought someone could display so many emotions through one long strand of greasy hair until the day he had met Captain Hook. Now he watched with growing trepidation, trying to determine which emotion his captain was feeling.

The notorious pirate continued to ignore his first mate's presence as he placed the mirror onto his desk and picked up the bag of pixie dust, a gift passed on through the enchanted glass. He could practically feel the pixie dust through the sack, his skin tingling in response.

Captain Hook finally lifted his head, lanky black curls sliding across the worn, red fabric of his once flamboyant coat. His beady eyes locked onto Smee and his lips lifted into a smile that revealed two rows of rotting teeth. "Go round up the crew, Smee." His rough voice held a deviously happy note. He lifted his arm and proudly showed the pudgy man the pouch that rested in his palm before he threw it to him. "And tell them to toss this all over the ship." His grin widened. "It's finally time for us to go home."

Smee barely caught the bag, the precious item bouncing between his fumbling hands a few times before he finally managed to catch it. He blinked at his captain, his eyes widening with surprise and joy. "Really? You mean we. . ."

"GO, SMEE!"

Smee jumped and bolted up the stairs as fast as he could, leaving the other pirate alone in his cabin.

Captain Hook slowly stood up and walked away from his desk, excitement making his moustache twitch. His boots thumped loudly on the wooden planks as he made his way over to the makeshift shelf that covered most of the wall.

The sounds of joyful shouts drifted down to his cabin, mingling with the loud thumps as the sailors ran back and forth across the deck. The famous pirate ignored the noise, his eyes scanning intently over the shelf's contents. Millions of knick-knacks filled the wooden shelves, all of which had magically appeared on the beach, washed up by the tide. Some of the items he was familiar with, and some their purpose remained a mystery to him. All them were things from a different time.

A different world.

His eyes finally landed on the object they had been looking for and he carefully grabbed the leather bound book, staring down at it with a slight frown. He didn't even bother opening the book, reading was never his strong suit, and besides, Smee, the one who seemed to actually enjoy reading, couldn't decipher the jumbled mess of letters that covered the yellow pages. The bumbling idjit claimed it was written in a different language.

No, the words that filled the book weren't what mattered to the pirate. He was more concerned with the name that was on the cover, carved elegantly into the leather.

_Jakob Grimm._

He smiled as he placed the book back onto the shelf. The book was too big to be passed through the mirror, so he was going to have the honor of presenting it to the Master himself.

Hook's smile widened as thoughts of rewards and praises filled his brain, not once noticing the ball of light that shot out from underneath his table and escaped out the window.

The light made its way past the ship, avoiding the notice of the pirates, and flew straight into the thick tangle of jungle. It skillfully threaded its way through the thick branches and large leaves until it spotted a boy crouching on a branch, his green clothes blending with the trees' foliage.

The light flew up to his ear, a symphony of chirping sounds erupting from it. The boy listened intently to the noises, a thoughtful look on his face that was quickly replaced by a lopsided grin.

"Great job, Tink." Peter Pan stood up and took a step off the branch, hovering in the air. "So, ol' Captain Hook thinks he can leave without me, huh?" He shot into the air, shoving his way past branches until he was clear over the trees. He stared down from his bird's eyes view, watching as the pirates scurried across the deck.

Tinker Bell followed him, flying around him for a few seconds before flying to his ear again.

"What are we going to do?" He asked, once the chirping sound had died. He winked at the fairy, his grin widening. "Why, we're going to Ferryport Landing!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** **I'm sorry if this chapter wasn't too good. I'm trying to get back into the flow of writing.**

***comma was intentionally written.**

**Just so you know, there will be NO LOVE TRIANGLES in this story.**

**And it's been pointed out to me that my chapters tend to be a bit on the long side. I'm going to try to make them shorter so you don't feel like clawing your eyes out by the time you reach the end, but I can't make any promises.**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	5. Chickens and Arrows

THE NAME OF THIS STORY IS GOING TO CHANGE! Probably after the next update, the name will change to Shadows of the Past.( I know, Lara, it's none of the choices we discussed. Sorry.) Unless asked otherwise, I'll probably send a PM to people with accounts, reminding them that the name has changed. FOR THOSE OF YOU WITHOUT ACCOUNTS, please let me know in your review that you read this. I would appreciate it.

Thank you all for being patient while waiting for this chapter. Now that high school is over ( I'm no longer a high school student!) and since I don't have a job at this moment, the chapters should, hopefully, come faster. Though, if you feel that its been too long, feel free to PM, and, politely, tell me I need to hurry it up.

**karatequeen78-** Thanks! I'm glad you think its funny!

**warisha- **Think of if this way, shorter chapters would mean faster updates. And thanks!

**GrimmAdventures- **Demetri is in his twenties and Sabrina is still twelve, so I don't think that would work out. Thanks for the suggestion though, I appreciate it! And I'm glad you like it!

* * *

><p>The arrow sliced through the air with deadly speed, emitting an almost inaudible whistle as it flew. The tip, sharpened to provide maximum injury, glinted once in the sunlight before impaling itself stubbornly into the wood. . .five feet away from the intended target.<p>

A loud growl of frustration pushed its way past Sabrina's clenched teeth, causing passerby to give her startled looks, only to quickly move on when they saw the fury snapping in her blue eyes. But the blonde girl couldn't have cared less about the people surrounding her, she was too busy trying to ignore the alluring desire to break the borrowed bow she held in her hand in half.

_Robin Hood would have a heart attack,_ a little voice in the back of her mind whispered as she glared down at the stupid excuse of a weapon. From the polished wood to the perfectly taut string, the bow practically screamed of the special care it received from the infamous archer, though why anyone would waste their time with the thing was beyond Sabrina.

She tore her attention away from the lousy piece of wood in favor of glaring at the target she had yet to hit. Standing a little over ten feet in front of her, with no obstacles barring the way, it looked like any other target she had ever seen, a large circle with smaller circles painted on it. It stared back at her like a giant eye, waiting with mocking innocence for her to stick an arrow through it.

It was probably the most frustratingly easy target she could ever hope to hit. . .and yet she couldn't!

"UGH!" She screamed, her fingers tightening around the bow. She had been practicing ever since Robin Hood and his Merry Men had left to patrol the forest, shooting arrow after arrow after arrow. Usually, she was at least able to hit the target twice, but this time the closest she got was when one arrow grazed the top of the annoying thing. And each time she missed, her frustration and anger grew, bubbling up inside of her until she felt like screaming.

She hated shooting with a bow and arrow! She hated the thought of leaving her life, and the life of her family, to the wind. She hated that, at any moment, the fickle element could blow her weapon off course. She hated the thought of standing away from the battle and shooting sharpened twigs at her enemy. She would much rather be closer, beating the living daylights out of whoever was threatening her family.

Sabrina glared up at the sky, briefly wondering how much trouble she would be in if she tore every single target in the camp to shreds. She stayed that way for a few seconds, as if the white cloud slowly making its way across the giant expanse of blue could somehow make her into a better archer, and then dropped her eyes back down to ground level, sighing.

With her free hand, she began to rub her head in an attempt to ease the headache that was pounding away in her temples, grumbling under her breath.

She knew her anger stemmed from more than just her inability to shot arrows. It came, along with a large dose of worry, from not knowing anything. Not knowing who, or what, destroyed Baba Yaga's hut, not knowing what was bothering the Phoenix, not knowing when the Scarlet Hand would attack, not knowing how many people she saw walking past her would still be alive tonight, and not knowing if the millions of escape scenarios she replayed constantly in her mind would be enough to save her family.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut as the thousands of questions and worries careened around in her mind, all screaming for her attention. She forced herself to take a deep breath and did her best to force them to the back of her mind. She would find answers to those problems soon enough, she was a detective after all, but right now, she had to focus on protecting her family.

Sabrina's eyes opened and dropped down to the bow still clutched in her hand, a scowl etching her face. Even if it meant perfecting her talent with the weapon.

Her blues eyes lifted from the bow to lock onto the target, her scowl shifting into a thoughtful look. Not for the first time, she whished Robin was with her, coaching her on what to do.

"What would you tell me?" Her brow furrowed slightly as she muttered the words and she closed her eyes again, trying to imagine that the Everafter was beside her.

"_You have to calm down, kid. Close the rest of the world out and focus on your target."_

"_Yep, focus is key, Peppermint."_

"_Hey, who's the one giving the lesson?"_

"_Oh, sorry, Rob."_

"_You can do it, kid. Just block out everything else around you."_

A small smile twitched the corner of her lips and then quickly fled when the thought of the two Merry Men not making it back safely jabbed at her. She stubbornly pushed the fear to the back of her mind, where the rest of her worries crouched, waiting to bombard her.

Sabrina took a deep breath and opened her eyes, zeroing in on the target. For a moment, she let the noises of camp life wash over her; the hum of a thousand conversations, the constantly moving bodies, the aroma of cooking food and sweaty people, and then slowly began to block them off, forcing herself to focus solely on the bulls-eye.

She notched another arrow and pulled the string back as she lifted the bow, her blue gaze locked onto her enemy. She could feel it tingling in her veins over the silently screaming muscles in her arm; the assurance that, this time, the arrow would not miss its mark. She allowed a small smirk to grace her lips, her fingers itching with the desire to let the arrow fly. . .

"AHHHH!"

The scream broke through her carefully constructed concentration, shattering the focus she had mustered up. Instinctively, she ducked and spun around, her blonde hair flashing out behind her. She quickly swung the bow upwards to block a possible attack and braced herself.

A loud _THUNK_ filled her ears, and the Grimm girl found herself staring at a wooden sword and a pair of grinning green eyes.

"PUCK!" She growled, pushing upward and knocking the fairy back, all too aware of her racing heart and the arrow that was sticking out of the ground, nowhere near the target. "What are you doing?"

The Trickster King just blinked at her, and for a moment a part of Sabrina, the part that wasn't completely furious, thought that the fairy was going to go into crazy-run-away mode, but then he rolled his eyes at her. "Sneak attack, duh!" He said, his tone suggesting that the answer was obvious.

"You might want to work on your sneak attacks, stink baby. They're a bit too loud." She ground the words out through clenched teeth and forced her fingers to tighten around the smooth wood of the bow, the only way she could keep herself from strangling the idiot. Though she refused to show it, his sneak attack had actually scared her. For a split, horrifying, second, she had believed that the camp was under attack, again.

"If I actually tried to sneak attack you, Bigfoot, you wouldn't be able to protect yourself." He replied as he twirled his wooden sword around in the air, a smirk twisting his lips.

Sabrina rolled her eyes and snorted. "And why are you trying to attack me?"

"Because," his green eyes flickered to her and then quickly moved away. He kicked a stick with his foot, the wooden sword twirling faster and faster in his hands. His body language was suddenly less arrogant as he answered her. "I figured, after seeing how horribly you fight," he dragged his fingers through his messy hair and shrugged, "you needed all the help you could get, and, being your friend and all, I should help you." He muttered the words so quickly that they came out in a jumbled blur, all the while twirling the sword around at top speed.

Sabrina blinked at him in shock, momentarily wondering if she had heard right. "My friend?" Then the anger and hurt that she had been feeling the past few days burned away any confusion she had. This boy, who had made such great efforts to avoid talking to her, now had the audacity to scare her and then claim to be her friend? "So, you're actually going to talk to me now?" She sneered, anger dripping from every word.

In a flash, awkward Puck was replaced by the normal, cocky one. "Aw," he smirked, completely ignoring her glare, "did poor Grimm miss the melodious sound of my voice?"

"More like the nauseous sound," Sabrina quipped, turning around to retrieve her arrow. "And I don't have time to play games with you."

With her back turned, she didn't see the look of shock that crossed Puck's face . . or the expression of stubbornness that took its place.

"Sounds to me like somebody's chicken!" Chicken sounds erupted behind her and Sabrina didn't have to turn around to know that the boy had morphed into one of the annoying animals.

"I'm not a chicken!" She snapped, spinning around to glare at him as he hopped around in chicken form, clucking and flapping his wings. Her cheeks grew red as people stopped to watch the spectacle Puck was making, chuckling behind their hands. "Will you stop that?" She shouted, desperate to make him stop. "You know I can beat you with one hand behind my back!"

Puck quickly morphed back into his human form, pulling a sword out of his pocket and tossing it to her. "Prove it, then," he said, green eyes glinting with mischief, and triumph, as he watched her deftly catch the weapon. His body slid into a fighting stance, his lips curling into a sneer. "Go ahead, Grimm. Try and beat me up."

Sabrina glared at him, the wooden sword comfortingly familiar in her hands after a long practice with a bow. She felt the anger and worry that had been building inside of her over the past few days, the result of both the problems around her and the boy in front of her. She took in his mop of dirty blonde hair, stained clothes, and the playful look in his eyes that dared her to accept the challenge, and realized that there was nothing more in the world she would rather do than beat him to a pulp.

She carefully set the bow down on the ground, secretly glad that she had an excuse to stop practicing, after all, it had been a while since she trained in sword fighting.

A ferocious smirk curved her lips as she mirrored the Trickster's stance.

"It'll be my pleasure."

* * *

><p><em>He was running. . .arms pumping. . .legs moving. . .running. . .running. . .<em>

_**Don't stop running. . .**_

_Heavy pants punctured the cold air, bursting past his lips in a way that reminded him that he couldn't outrun them forever. His feet beat a steady rhythm into the forest floor, propelling him forward with a speed fueled by the blind fear that coursed through his veins, pressuring his legs to move faster._

_**Don't look back . . .**_

_His breath hitched in his throat, a tell-tale sign of his terror, as he shoved branches out of his way and dodged any obstacle that rose before him. The desire that gripped him, the desire to get away, to flee, was almost strong enough to send him stumbling to the ground, but he managed to stay on his feet. He had to get away. He had to get to safety before they . . ._

_**They're getting closer. . .**_

_He could feel them steadily gaining ground in the way the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and the muscles in his stomach tightened in fear. A cold shiver raced down his spin at the thought of them reaching out their hands. . .reaching out to grab him . . ._

_**Keep running. . .don't stop. . .keep running. . .please. . .**_

_The trees that surrounded him suddenly came to life, morphing into sinister monsters whose sole purpose was to stop him. They stretched out skeletal fingers to snatch his clothes. . .his skin . . .his hair. . .anything to slow him down. . ._

"_Alexander. . .Alexander. . ."_

_He could hear their voices now, cold whispers that reached his ears as he frantically stumbled and twisted to escape the hands that were hungrily grasping at him. Voices that only wanted to bring pain . . .suffering. . .revenge. . ._

_**NO!**_

_Something wrapped around his leg and sent him careening onto the ground. A choked sob of fear lodged itself in his throat as he desperately struggled to get up. . .but his legs wouldn't work. The once firm muscles had now turned to jelly underneath his weight, becoming useless._

_**They're here. . .**_

_He quickly rolled over and found himself staring into a pair of brown eyes. . .a grinning face. . .__**his own eyes. . .his own face. . .**_

_The ground caved in beneath him, plunging him, screaming, into the darkness. The voices were all around him, whispering, hissing, shouting, screaming, surrounding him in a hurricane of noise. He tried to block them out by covering his ears, by screaming at the top of his lungs, but the sounds still managed to twist their way into his head._

_He just wanted it all to stop! He was so tired. . .so very tired. . .all he wanted to do was sleep. . .to go to bed. . .bed. . ._

_He sat up, the bed creaking softly underneath him, and gazed around the small room. The tiny room, with its one door and sputtering candle, held an odd sense of familiarity that was anything but comforting. He frowned, a sick feeling twisting his gut, as a memory danced at the edge of his mind. Something bad had happened.. . .something horrible. . .but he couldn't remember. . ._

_A soft hiss echoed through the air, snatching his attention. He slowly turned his gaze to the door as another choked sound resonated from behind the wood. His mind screamed at him not to go to the door, not to open it, but his body wouldn't listen._

_His limbs moved slowly and mechanically, as if he was being controlled by some malicious outside force. Pushing back the covers, sliding off the bed, the steady footsteps that brought him closer to the door, all went against his screaming mind, his pounding heart._

_The door seemed to stretch and grow as he approached, until it filled his entire vision, the rest of the room fading out to oblivion. His hand reached out to the doorknob for one last act of defiance, but the door swung open before his fingertips could brush the wood. It moved on its hinges without a squeak, quietly beckoning him to enter._

_He stepped through the doorway and into the room, cautiously staring around him. His eyes took in the writing desk, the window, the overturned candle, and the body lying prone on the floor._

"_Mr. Grimm?" He spoke the famous writer's name with a tone of hesitation, though some part of him, the part that was screaming at him to run away, knew it had to be his employer. Who else could it be?_

_With a soft hiss, the body began to move, as if the simple sound of its name had brought it back from the dead. He watched in petrified silence as the emaciated man slowly sat up, movements loose and puppet-like. Clumps of white hair fell from a decaying scalp, black lips pulled back to reveal rotten teeth, and sunken, yellow eyes narrowed into a glare._

_The empty shell of a man lifted an arm and pointed a gnarled finger at him. "You!" It hissed, putting as much accusation and hatred into the word._

_A sharp pain erupted in his chest, ripping a scream out of him and forcing him to his knees._

"_You!"_

_People__ filled the room. .glaring at him. . .shoving him. . .screaming at him. . ._

"_My son! What did you do to my son?"_

_Why were they screaming at him? He just wanted it to stop . . .the pain in his chest. . .the screaming. . .he wanted it all to stop. . ._

_**STOP!**_

_But the faces didn't go away. They stayed. . .they changed. . .growing older. . .and older. . .and older. . ._

"_What did you do?"_

_Stop. . .stop. . .stop. . .why couldn't he stop?_

"_Monster!"_

_Hair turned grey. . .youthful skin sprouted winkles. . .turning yellow. . .falling to dust. . .but the eyes remained. Glaring at him. Always glaring. . ._

"_Do it again."_

_The decaying body of what had once been Jakob Grimm appeared in front of him, filling his vision. "WHERE IS IT?" It shrieked. "WHERE IS IT?"_

"_I'm sorry!" He gasped. "I'm sorry!"_

_The pain in his chest began to fade away, the faces disappeared, crumbling to dust as one last voice whispered through the air. . ._

"_What are you?"_

Xander snapped out of his dream with a choked gasp, his body automatically jerking into a sitting position, every inch of his flesh drenched in cold sweat. The sudden change from deep sleep to wide awake left him in a momentary state of disorientation, the panic pulsing through his veins doubling at the realization that he didn't know where he was. Eyes wide, fingers digging into cold dirt, and muscles locked in fear, he gazed around him as screaming faces shattered to reveal trees and falling leaves, and the accusing whispers dissolved into the sound of twittering birds.

And then reality flooded over him, lessening the panic just a bit. He was in the forest. It had all just been a dream.

_It was just a dream . . .it was just a dream. . .it was just a dream. . ._

The words became a steady mantra as he repeated them over and over in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and clung to them like a drowning man to a life preserver, trying to convince himself of their truth. It had all just been another dream, another nightmare. He was in the forest, not in the house of his dead employer, not surrounded by screaming people.

_It was just a dream . .it was just a dream . . .it wasn't just a dream. . ._

The young teen's shoulders slumped and he buried his face in his hands, the scream that had been stuck in his throat escaping in a shuddering groan. His body began to shake violently, and his chest moved with rapid pants, as if he suddenly couldn't manage to take in enough air. Brief snapshots of his dream danced cruelly across his vision, churning a mixture of nausea and guilt inside of him.

"_What are you?"_

He abruptly stood up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that accompanied the far too quick motion, and shakily made his way through the forest, pushing through the branches and twigs that stood in his way. He broke out of the forest and into open air, stumbled over the railroad tracks, and collapsed onto his knees in front of the Hudson River.

He dove his shaking hands into the water and splashed some onto his face. He let out a soft gasp as the cold water made contact with his skin, breaking into a thousand crystalline droplets that sent an icy wave throughout his body, chasing off the last bits of sleep.

Xander stared down at the river as drops of water fell from his face, ignoring the wet mud that dampened the knees of his jeans. He gazed into the murky depths and willed himself to focus on anything but the nightmare that still lurked fresh in his mind. His reflection stared back up at him, the image slightly marred by the constantly rippling water. His attention was drawn immediately to his hair. The tangled mess looked like it had never seen a comb before, and the sloppy style spoke of the many years of his unprofessional hair cutting, through it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before.

Self-consciously, he lifted a hand and tried to pat down the rebellious strands of hair that were determined to stick out at odd angles. The brown locks refused to move and he eventually gave up, frowning as he wondered if people. . .

People.

A sick feeling twisted his gut as he was reminded of the reason why he had decided to take a nap in the forest. He had hoped that getting some sleep would ease the knot in his stomach, clear his mind, and do away with his indecision, but all it had done was make things ten times worse.

A pair of worried eyes stared up at him from the water, the brown irises reflecting the fear that he was trying so hard to ignore. He lifted a hand and placed it over his heart, glimpses of his nightmare flashing through his head, and felt the organ beating rapidly beneath his skin. A faint throb, though no where near as painful as it had been in his dream, echoed through him; a whispered promise of things to come.

He pushed himself to his feet and turned around, his eyes traveling to the sign that stood a few feet in front of him, on the other side of the railroad. Weather beaten with chipped paint, the wooden board looked like it was in dire need of repairs, but the colorful letters that stretched across its surface still managed to give it an air of cheerfulness: WELCOME TO FERRYPORT LANDING!

Xander stared at it for a moment, eyes roaming over every inch of the sign as a wave of uncertainty crashed through him. Though he couldn't see it, he knew that a powerful barrier lurked somewhere near that innocent looking sign, waiting to trap any magical being within its grasp.

"What am I thinking?" He muttered, eyes moving to the air around the cheerful greeting, as if he could somehow make out the hidden barrier. As soon as he stepped past that sign, he wouldn't be able to leave. There would be no hiding, no running, and no chance of escape when things went sour. And things always went sour.

People's faces, mingling in both his nightmare world and reality, flashed across his mind, and a sharp, painful fear reverberated inside of him. What would he do if they looked at him like he was a monster, or worse, like he was some valuable tool they could use to gain power? He wouldn't be able to run or hide. He'd be trapped, stuck in a town with a bunch of people, a bunch of _innocent_people. . .

"I can't," he groaned as he tugged at his hair in frustration, the real problem rearing its ugly head. There was no way he could go in there and risk dealing with those consequences. The same consequences that were slowly tearing him to pieces. . .and he just. . .he just couldn't do it. He spun around on his heel and started to walk away, trying not to look back.

_But where else can you go?_

He stopped as the thought broke unbidden across his mind, a grim sense of helplessness mingling with his fear. There really wasn't anywhere else he could go, at least, no where he could hope to get any form of help. Ferryport Landing may have the barrier, but it also had what could be the only people capable of helping him: the Grimms.

He slowly turned around and began walking towards the sign, the pros and cons of each decision battling it out inside of his mind.

What if they can't help?

Then they would just have to lock him up somewhere.

What if they didn't believe him?

They would have to believe him.

What if he hurt someone?

He walked until he had almost passed the sign, stopping at the last possible second. He stared into the open space, fingernails digging into his palms as he bit his lip. Conflicting emotions warred inside of him, pulling him in two different directions, each one screaming at him that he was being an idiot.

_Leave._

_Stay._

_Leave._

_Stay._

_"We help people. It's what we do."_

His hand slid into his pocket and his fingers wrapped around the rough object that rested there, as if he could draw strength from it. He then squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, praying that he wasn't making the worst decision in his life. "I hope that attitude runs in the family, Mr. Grimm," he muttered, and, before the knots twisting his stomach could convince him otherwise, stepped into Ferryport Landing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- For those of you who may be curious, Xander is from a fairytale. You can try and guess if you want, though if you actually get it, I'll be completely awed. He's from a rather small story in which he is only referred to as 'the boy'.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Talking Squirrels and Sword Fights

Ferryport Landing was an enigma tucked away in a tiny part of a large planet, a town that was so much bigger than its small size. It revealed itself as only an insignificant grouping of ordinary buildings to the humans that passed by, unfocused eyes contentedly glancing over the surfaces before eventually coming to the satisfactory conclusion that it was " a nice town'. But to those with even an inkling of supernatural knowledge, those who could see past the pleasant surfaces, the tiny town was a place of horror and mystery, full of monsters, renegades, and fairytale creatures bursting with magic, all trapped inside a minuscule bubble by an ancient curse.

The barrier both captivated and horrified, snatching the imaginations of those lucky enough to have escaped its grasp, and sending out stories and legends to every Everafter community on the earth. Tales told in the enchanted tones of unfairly gifted storytellers mesmerized anyone who listened, stories of supposed true accounts strung together from sources inside the town, of that one moment when an Everafter's life changed forever. Of the foreboding chill that would race down the spin of the unfortunate soul the moment he crossed the barrier, rendering him motionless, frozen in time for a few denial filled seconds before reality came crashing down. And then the gut wrenching ache, as sharp and sudden as a blow to the stomach, of having one's freedom ripped away in a single step.

And what had Xander felt the moment he had passed that lousy excuse of a sign?

Absolutely nothing.

The teenager was sitting crisscross-applesauce on the grass, the same spot he had been sitting for the past thirty minutes or so, far enough away from the offensive sign that the words were just an indistinguishable blur of poorly chosen colors. The long branches that stretched over his head partially covered him in shadow while the tree trunk's rough bark jabbed uncomfortably at his back. Brown eyes would glance up occasionally to stare at the train tracks, ears straining to hear the rumblings of a coming train, and then he would surreptitiously let his gaze wander to the river, the sky, and the grass, looking for anything that was different.

The surface of the Hudson River looked as smooth as glass, no fish-like faces or mermaid hands disrupting the still water. The expanse of blue sky that stretched out over his head held only fluffy splotches of clouds, no mystical birds or flying reptiles, and average bugs crawled through the grass, no little people dressed in scraps of clothing. Nothing was different.

With a sigh, he returned to his task of methodically ripping out every single piece of grass that was in his reach. Each tug that tore the blades from the ground had an undercurrent of annoyed embarrassment that he had allowed himself to believe those ridiculous stories for even a second, along with the bitter disappointment at how anticlimactic crossing the barrier had been. While it was great that nothing horrible had happened, he had still figured that _something_ would have felt different. And after stressful weeks filled with sleepless nights, fitful naps, hand wringing, hair pulling, and short lived bouts of firm resolve, to feel no change was a giant rip off.

A light breeze- a normal one, not one filled with hushed whispers-blew past, toying with his hair and mingling the faint rustle of leaves with the gentle slap of river water, a sound that was frustratingly normal. He paused in his destruction of Mother Nature to send another glance towards the railroad. His eyes followed the tracks as they disappeared into the distance, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as anxiety pricked at him. It would only be a few more hours until the sun finally dipped behind the horizon and yet there was still no sign of a train . . . actually, he hadn't seen a train since he had started to walk beside the tracks.

He frowned as he shoved the unease aside. The lack of a train didn't matter, there was probably a good explanation for it- there had to be a reasonable explanation for it because there _couldn't_ be anything wrong. While he had been hoping that a train full of passengers would come – it was a lot less suspicious for a kid to be in a crowd of eager tourists than for one to suddenly appear out of nowhere- the faster he found the Grimms, the better.

He wiped his hands on his already dirty jeans. Besides, it was probably too dangerous for him to camp out in the forest alone at night when he didn't know what kind of creatures lived in there.

His hands froze in mid-swipe, hovering over the fabric of his pants. Hints of half remembered stories floated unbidden through his mind, of hulking monsters that lurked in the forest . . . with long claws and red shot eyes . . . sneaking up behind unsuspecting prey with steps as quiet as a breeze . . . reaching out clawed hands to . . . to . . . to snatch . . .

Xander jerked away from the tree trunk, crawling as fast as he could away from the edge of the forest. He frantically turned around, his heart attempting to pound its way out of his chest. The calling birds and rustling noises that were a permanent part of the forest turned sinister as his wide eyes scanned the thick tangle of branches and darkness, searching fearfully for the red eyes and sharp teeth of bloodthirsty monsters. . .though he was almost positive squirrels weren't considered bloodthirsty.

The fuzzy animal stared at him from beside a tree trunk, an acorn clutched protectively in its paws. The two stared at each other in a heavy moment of shocked silence, and then the blind fear that had coursed through his veins disappeared as fast as it had come, leaving behind a hot embarrassment that turned his cheeks pink. Xander forced his move upwards into what he hoped was a friendly smile, lifting his hand in a small wave. "Uh . . . hey?"

His voice sounded odd and out of place, intruding awkwardly into the air that was usually reserved only for the sounds of nature, and self-consciousness deepened his blush. Apparently, the squirrel thought he was odd too. The words had barely left his lips when it turned and high-tailed it into the forest, fluffy tail flicking a mocking goodbye before disappearing into the brush. Xander stared at the piece of ground that had once been occupied by the rude little rodent, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Right, squirrels don't talk . . . of course . . ._ duh_," he muttered, running a sheepish hand through his hair as he shoved back the twinge of loneliness that stabbed at him. He pushed himself to his feet and tried to wipe off the extra dirt and vegetation his clothes had gathered during his frantic scramble in an attempt to not look so much like a hobo. After a few futile moments, he gave up and shot one last glance over his shoulder. The train tracks were still empty.

With a frown, and more worry than he'd like to admit, he turned and began to walk towards the small building that waited in the distance; a building he hoped was the train station. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and stared down at the ground while he walked, biting his lip slightly as he thought.

Without a train he would have to come up with a different form of transport . . . so . . . his dad had driven him here. The man had dropped him off . . .'cause the Grimms, who were old friends of his parents, were supposed to pick him up, but there must have been some kind of miscommunication . . . he couldn't call because his father had forgotten to give him their number, he could be forgetful like that sometimes.

He ran the story over and over again in his mind, watching as his ratty sneakers switched places in his line of vision- left, right, left, right. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

It was a tricky game, trying to convince someone to believe an idea, a fact, or a person that wasn't true. Predicting what they were going to say before they even said it, having a reply already ready. Acting completely normal when normal was the furthest thing from the truth. Too little _um_s and _uhs_ and the story would sound suspiciously rehearsed, too many and it would sound poorly rehearsed. One wrong word, too much infliction, not enough smiles, and the whole thing could fall to pieces.

It was a tricky game . . . but he had had plenty of practice.

He lifted his head and then came to a shocked stop. As his wide eyes took in what was the train station, he couldn't help but think that it wouldn't take much to make the employees believe him.

The small wooden building looked a little old fashioned as it stood, solitary, a few feet away from the train tracks. Painted a washed out gray color with a wooden overhang that looked like it was more likely to collapse than to protect travelers from rain, the building wasn't the greatest first impression, and it only got worse. Pockets of disrepair dotted the train station, peeling paint and cracked windows, which spoke of months of neglect. Wadded up wrappers and bottles of who-knows-what littered the outside, rolling around on the grass as if someone had carelessly tossed them out the door.

Xander blinked at the decrepit building as the thought of _maybe it's just the old train station and there's another , cleaner, one behind it_ crashed through his mind, but the sign, the only clean part of the building, proudly announced it to be Ferryport Landing's one and only train station.

He stared at the train station in shock. Why would the town let the first building that anyone would ever see look like a pig-sty? He pulled his hands out of his pocket as he shoved the thought aside, he shouldn't worry about that. It was still a train station, and train stations had workers that could either give him the Grimm's address or phone number. Or at least it should have a phone book he could use.

He started to make his way towards the station, carefully stepping around the minefield of trash that surrounded the small building, his brain trying to think of all the different ways the scenario could work out. The more he ran the story around in his mind, the more possibilities of it going wrong appeared. But all the problems and complications did nothing to dampen the slight twinge of guilty desire that sparked inside of him. It had been so long since he had been around an actual person, that the longing for human company, even if it was for the brief span of a short conversation, was almost enough to send him running towards the train station.

He forced himself to cautiously step onto the porch, eyeing the sagging overhang with distrust, just in case it decided today was the day it was going to collapse. His lungs filled with a steadying breath as he contradictorily tried to calm himself down and look like a panicked kid at the same time. He lifted his hand, fingers curled into a fist, when angry shouts erupted on the other side of the door.

"Stop cheating, you . . . cheater!"

"I ain't cheatin', you just stink at playin'."

"I do no . . ."

"Oh, for the love of the deck, you two idiots both stink at playing, so stop fussing already!" The exasperated shout, full of the consternation of one who felt forced to work with those of 'lower intelligence', was just enough to stop the arguing . . .for all of two seconds.

"Why do we even have to be here? I doubt a train is actually going to come, that old guy's got enough dust on him to probably forget that Ferryport Landing even exists."

"Are you defyin' the good queen's orders?"

"No, I'm just tired of being stuck in the same room as a smelly old cheater like you!"

"What part of stop fussing do you two nitwits not understand?" The groan did nothing to stop the arguments.

"Spendin' a day locked up in a room with your whinin' shelf isn't my definition of a good time, either!"

"Shut up, you freaking Uno card!"

"YO . . ."

"I swear on the mighty Queen's bunions, if you two don't shut it, I'm going to stick you both!"

_Queen? Bunions?_

To say that he was confused by this point was an understatement. Xander frowned at the door, unconsciously taking a step back as trepidation formed a block in his stomach. He wasn't an expert on train station workers, but he was pretty sure that most of them didn't talk about sticking people, or the foot problems of queens.

His eyes slid over to the window that waited a few feet away, his teeth sinking into his lips as he pondered between leaving and finding out what was happening. They could just be playing some odd game . . . or they could be a bunch of psychopaths. After a few seconds of indecision, he caved and slowly began to creep toward the window, keeping an eye on the door in case one of the workers came barreling out.

"Why her highness stuck me with you two idiots is beyond me."

"I am not an idiot!"

Xander knelt down in front of the window as a fresh wave of arguing burst inside the building, his heart beating faster with each movement. He griped the windowsill, and, ever so slowly, sat up enough to peak through the glass. The dirt encrusted window offered him a view of an even dirtier old room, lit up by a single bare bulb. The weak light valiantly shone against the dirt and grime, revealing a counter, shelves filled with half-empty bottles, a fold out table . . .and three giant playing cards with heads, arms, and legs.

"Card soldiers?" His breath coated the glass in a brief haze of mist, his brown eyes widening in shock. Why were there card soldiers in a train station? Two of the fairytales were glaring at each other over a tabletop covered in miniature playing cards, while another paced in front of them, exasperation twisting his eerily human face as he lectured them on the importance of representing the great queen.

Befuddlement made Xander's brow furrow as his brain tried to think of some reasonable explanation as to why three card soldiers were lounging about in the one place that humans were bound to see them.

And then he noticed the bags.

There was a small group of them huddled around one of the plastic legs of the table. Ordinary brown sackcloth bags that almost seemed to blend in with the wooden floor, except for the slashes of glittering pink that peeked through the openings. The shimmering pink powder that was unmistakable. Forgetful dust.

Xander's pounding heart began to beat faster as he breathlessly took in the plain bags, the soldiers' conversation and presence suddenly, horribly, making sense. They were using forgetful dust on the people on the train. They were blowing forgetful dust on random _humans_.

"Oh, no." A cold pit of dread settled like a rock in his stomach as a part of him, the part that had never wanted to come here in the first place, let out a sneering _I told you so._

Xander's fingers tightened on the windowsill, his breathing picking up. His eyes moved upwards and away from the bags to see that the card soldier had stopped pacing . . .and was staring right at him.

His frantic heart stopped beating, his breath freezing in his throat as he stared into the equally shocked brown eyes of the card soldier. For a moment, the two stood frozen in a similar state of surprise, until the shock in the card soldier's eyes morphed into fury.

The soldier's mouth began to open, his hand reaching for the sword that dangled from his square torso/waist/body thing, and it was that movement, coupled with the sight of that rather sharp weapon, that snapped Xander out of his paralyzed state of fear. He quickly pushed himself to his feet and bolted off the porch as a shout rang out from inside the building.

He didn't bother to avoid the bottles and wrappers that covered the ground, voting instead to just crush them in his hurry to get away from the apparently hostile playing cards. Terror encouraged him to run faster than he thought he could down the little dirt road that he prayed would lead him to the town and normal people, his shoes sending up clouds of dust with each leaping step.

He kept running, pushing past the growing stitch in his side, his ragged breathing, and the fire that ignited in his lungs with each gulp of air, until the blurred shapes of buildings appeared in his vision. With a choked croak of relief, he allowed himself to slow down, his hand immediately going to rub his aching side as he shot a glance over his shoulder. There was no sign of any overly large cards with deadly weapons: he had outrun them.

A shaky smile spread across his lips as he turned to walk into town, his hungry breaths sounding like the wheezing of an old car.

And his relief shriveled up and died.

It was surreal in a nauseatingly sick way, staring at the road that stretched out before him, almost as if he had stepped out of reality and into a horror movie. The buildings that flanked both sides carried an abandoned feeling as they huddled close to the paved road, broken windows and doors like gaping black holes waiting patiently to suck someone into the inky darkness. The failing sunlight glinted off the shards of glass that coated the road in flashes of orange and gold, transforming the pavement into a strip of crystalline fire.

"No, no, no, no, no, no." He muttered the plea over and over again, hoping with every fiber of his being that this was all some sick, twisted joke. He moved slowly down the street, the broken windows crunching underneath his shoes, wide eyes taking in the destruction in horror. The bike that was sticking out of a broken window, the tire spinning lazily in the wind, the broken remains of toys, books, dishware, and ripped clothes that littered the street. And the handprints. Blood red, they covered every single spot on the buildings, the wooden signs, the stone, what little remained of the windows, there were even some on the road, like some twisted kid had had a little too much freedom with finger paint.

_This can't be real. This can't be real._

His feet moved of their own free will as an empty sense of detachment washed over him. He had to be dreaming, this was too much like what one would see in a movie, or read in a book, to be reality. _This can't be real_.

His heart seemed to stutter inside of his chest before falling into a steady rhythm that reverberated through his body, until the sound of its beating filled his ears: _thump, thump, thump. _He kept moving, though his brain was screaming at him to stop, to run away. His body almost seemed to float farther into the town, his eyes mindlessly taking in the damage.

A jolt of pain made him gasp as his foot slammed into a stone step. A hiss of agony squeezed past his gritted teeth as he hopped on one foot, shaking the injured one like that would dispel the ache. He gingerly set his foot back down on the ground, his throbbing toe still sending out shocks of pain, and lifted his head to glare at whatever had caused him pain.

The building that stood in front of him was just as broken down as all the others. Books littered the outside where they had been thrown through the broken windows, damaged pages turning in the wind. Hand prints painted the walls a dark red but still didn't hide the name of the building. _Ferryport Landing Library._

The door was still intact and shut tight, though he doubted that it would be locked . . . . Xander froze and stared at the wooden door that waited a mere step in front of him. His eyes blinked in bewilderment and he turned his head to stare down the steps that he had apparently walked up. When had he . . . why had he . . . he couldn't remember walking up the steps, much less _why_ he had decided to do so. He turned back to the door, the features on his face arranging into a look of confusion.

His heart seemed to pound harder in his chest, slamming itself against his rib cage as if urging him forward. _Move. Move_. He frowned at the wooden door, unconsciously taking a step forward, his hand lifting to reach for the door handle.

A loud shout jerked him away from the door, pulling his attention from the library and back down the street he had just come. Another shout rang out, and Xander felt his blood run cold when his eyes landed on the source. The card soldiers.

He stood frozen for a few seconds as the three soldiers began to sprint in his direction, weapons already drawn, before he launched himself down the steps and sprinted down the street. It didn't take long to leave Ferryport Landings 'business district' and into the less inhabited area. The road stretched out in front of him as far as he could see, kept in place by a wire fence. On the other side of the fence were a small field and the forest in all its tangled, easy-to-lose-crazy-psychopaths glory.

Without wasting a second he threw himself onto the ground, flattening himself as much as he could, and crawled under the fence, wincing when the rough wire scratched his skin. He pushed himself to move as fast as he could, not caring about a ripped shirt and a few cuts, all too aware of the pounding footsteps that were slowly getting louder. He scrambled to his feet and raced across the field before slamming into the forest.

Branches scratched his arms and face, roots and thick undergrowth threatened to trip him, and the overwhelming sense of déjà vu crashed through him. He frantically twisted and turned around tree trunks and other immovable objects, hoping that he wouldn't trip and fall 'cause he did not feel like being stabbed today.

He rounded a particularly large tree and then rammed into something soft and warm. Two sets of 'oof's filled the air as he fell backwards, quickly scrambling up to stare at whatever, _whoever_ it was that he had ran into.

The person that was standing in front of him was the furthest thing from a card soldier. Scars and faded tattoos covered the tan skin of his skinny frame, barely hidden by ragged clothing. Unwashed, sun-bleached hair was pulled back into a ponytail, held in place but what was probably a strip of cloth from his shirt. And his teeth were disgusting.

And he also had a gun.

It was an old fashioned looking weapon, so old that Xander didn't even know if it would actually shoot, though he wasn't willing to find out.

The man's grin widened, pushing back the skin on his pockmarked face, as he lifted the gun. "Well, 'ello! What do we hav' 'ere?"

Xander lifted his hands, his panicked gaze fixed on the gun. "Hi," his voice squeaked in a way that would have been extremely embarrassing if he hadn't been so terrified. "You seem like a very nice guy . . . unless you don't want to look like a nice guy . . . then you look like a really tough guy. . .a very, very tough guy who . . .uh. . . doesn't want to shoot anyone . . . 'cause that wouldn't be good. . .at all."

The man's face shifted from anger to confusion during Xander's frantic rambling before snapping back to anger. His chapped lips twisted into a scowl as he jabbed his gun forward threateningly, "Shut it!"

Xander's mouth snapped shut, his eyes still locked on the gun, a hopeless calm taking hold of him. He had never been stabbed, or shot before; he could only guess that being shot was a lot better than being stabbed. Faster maybe, depending on where he was going to get shot. He vaguely heard the sound of movement behind him, and wondered if that were his card solider buddies. Maybe they could stab him and then that creep could shoot him.

Mr. Hygiene took a step forward, black eyes moving to a spot somewhere behind Xander before returning back to him, a grin on his face, "Looks like we caught ourselves a Gri . . ."

A loud whizzing noise filled the air as something shot past inches away from the man's face and slammed into the tree. Xander turned his head to see a quivering arrow sticking out of a tree trunk as a deep "Oh, cheese whiz, I missed him!" bellowed through the air.

At the sound of that voice, everything exploded. The forest was filled with shouts and the whistling noises of arrows as people crashed through the foliage, some dressed in green, others in faded colors. Before Xander could even process what was going on, something hard slammed into the back of his head, and everything turned black.

. . .

It wasn't until their sparring match had begun that Sabrina realized just how much she had missed the closer form of combat. The rough texture of the wooden sword gripped firmly in her hand, the thrill of putting every inch of herself into each strike, the strategies and plans that constantly shifted and formed in her head, keeping her from focusing on life's worriers, all fed the closest sense of contentment that she had felt in a long time.

And, of course, the banter that peppered each thrust.

"Wow, Grimm, you swing like a girl!"

_Thrust . . . parry. . . dodge . . ._

"Just in case your tiny brain missed the obvious, I am a girl. But what's your excuse?"

_Lunge . . . duck . . . strike . . ._

"Really? You're a girl? Are you sure?"

_Spin . . . twist . . . swing . . ._

At some point in time a crowd had gathered around them, the excited babble of people placing bets filling the air as the spectators watched the two children fight with a grace that many of the soldiers lacked. Sabrina didn't spare them a glance, her attention solely on the manically grinning fairy that was currently swinging his sword at her.

Sabrina quickly sidestepped the attack, her sneakers sending small puffs of dirt into the air as she twisted away, her face carefully set in a casual expression. "Is that all you've got, stink baby? I thought you said you were the best?"

"I am the best." The fairy sneered at her as the two began to circle each other, bodies tense for any sign of attack. "But seeing that you're only a mere peasant, I don't want to push you too hard."

Sabrina's lips slipped into a slight smirk and she lunged forward, faking a swing at the fairy's head. Just as she had anticipated, he lifted his sword to block the attack, leaving his middle unprotected. She quickly shifted her swing downward, willing her arm to move as fast as possible. Puck's eyes widened and he jumped to the side, his body twisting desperately, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid being smacked on the leg.

The girl leapt back and out of striking range, raising an eyebrow as satisfaction burst through her at his wince. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Puck's expression soured as a chorus of 'ooh's erupted from the crowd. "You're going to regret that, Ugly," he snapped.

"Oh, now I'm scared."

The two began to circle each other again, not paying attention to the shouts of 'kick his fairy butt, Sabrina' and 'take her down, Puck' that occasionally burst from the spectators. Sabrina kept her eyes glued on Puck, knowing that the fairy was going to strike as hard and fast as he could due to his wounded pride.

Her only warning was a slight narrowing of his eyes, and then he was lunging forward with a speed that humans didn't possess. Sabrina frantically moved her sword arm to block the flurry of quick, hard strikes, an angry scowl on her face as Puck's attack forced her to move back. The fairy continued to push forward, his lips set into a cocky line of determination.

A succession of loud _clunks_ filled the air as their wooden swords made contact. The onlookers watched in slight awe as the children's arms moved 'til they were just blurs, striking and blocking. Some were forced to step back or face the risk of being hit by one of the swords.

Beads of sweat began to slide down Sabrina's face, and strands of blonde hair stuck to her skin, making her wish that she had thought to pull it back into a ponytail beforehand. Her breathing became more labored; the gulps of air practically forcing themselves in and out of her lungs, and her arms began to take on the weight of boulders as Puck continued his onslaught. The ache in her arms kicked her mind into overdrive as she tried to think of a way to stop the boy's attack before she couldn't move them anymore.

She knew there was a very small chance she would get out of this the winner. Besides being faster than she was, Puck had the advantage of over a thousand years of sword training, while she had only a few months. The only way she could win was if she used the one thing he didn't have: brains.

"What . . . were . . . you . . . saying . . . about . . . it not being . . . a good . . . idea?" Puck huffed out, not once slowing his strikes.

Sabrina only scowled, partly because of his words and partly because of the plan her treacherous brain had hatched. It wasn't the most alluring idea, but it was all she could think of under the circumstances. Besides, sacrifices had to be made in order to win wars.

Gritting her teeth for what was to come, Sabrina quickly lunged to the side in an attempt to escape from under the fairy's angry flurry of strikes. Puck took the opportunity to swing at her exposed side, landing a good, hard smack on her arm.

"AHA!" He crowed, "I told yo-OW!"

His gloating was cut short by Sabrina swinging her sword down onto his ego-stuffed head. With a shout of pain, he brought his hand up to his throbbing noggin, dropping his sword in the process. Sabrina kicked the weapon out of his reach and smirked at the groaning fairy. "You were saying?" Her arm throbbed slightly, but it was well worth it.

A round of applause and some boo's from the people who had just lost their bets erupted from the crowd. Puck lifted his head and glared at her, his pink wings popping out. "It's not over yet, Snot Breath!"

Before she could react, he grabbed her arm and shot into the air. For a brief second, Sabrina was knocked speechless by the nauseating sensation of having her feet on solid ground one second and then the next seeing her sneakers dangling above the ground.

She gritted her teeth against the rush of agitated butterflies that flew around her stomach, no matter how many times Puck yanked her off the ground she never got used to it, and channeled her fear into anger. "Put me down, you little cheater, so I can bust your face!"

The Trickster King only laughed as he flew higher, green eyes sparkling. "I'm a villain, stupid! Cheating is what I do!"

"You better put me down right now before I shove my fist down your throat!" She tilted her head back to snarl at his grinning face, deciding it was much better to glare at him than to stare at her dangling feet. It was hard to imagine that a few moments ago she had actually _missed _talking to him.

"I don't think you're in any position to make threats, Miss. Sissy Pants," his grin widened in a flash of white. "But, since I'm feeling unusually kind today, I'll let you go if you admit that I'm the greatest sword fighter in the whole universe!"

"Over my dead body!"

"Suit yourself!"

The initial stomach-dropping feeling that accompanied being suddenly yanked fifteen feet into the air was beginning to wear off. Sabrina just rolled her eyes at Puck then risked a glance down. A sea of faces stared up at her; varying expressions of amusement dominating their features. They all knew Puck wouldn't drop her . . . at least not on purpose.

"Hey, Ugly!" Puck's voice brought her attention back to him, as he gradually began to fly higher. "What would you do if I dropped you?"

Her angry retort was cut off by a loud commotion coming from the main gate, urgent voices, rough orders shouted, and the stampeding sound of a group of running feet. Sabrina, thanks to the height Puck had reached, had a clear view of the entrance and the wave of green clad people pouring through.

"Merry Men," she muttered, watching as they scattered, no doubt to gather all the 'important people' of Camp Charming. A spike of fear stabbed at her and she quickly scanned the camp, her fear growing when she didn't spot . . .

"There she is," Puck's voice cut through her panic as he shifted his grip on her to one hand and pointed. Her eyes followed his grubby finger and a sigh of relief burst out of her when she spotted a pointy blue hat making its way toward Granny's cabin through the swarm of people.

She lifted her head, blue eyes locking onto Puck's green ones.

Without uttering a word, Puck quickly began to descend to the ground, his frantically flapping pink wings slowing down. They hit the ground just in time to see Snow White race across the dirt in the direction of Charming's cabin, a Merry Man hot on her heels.

"I wonder what's got them all freaked out," Puck muttered, a frown of disappointment on his face at the thought that someone else other than him was causing people distress.

"There's only one way to find out," Sabrina answered. She took a step in the direction Snow went, then swiftly turned and punched Puck hard on the arm. "That's for cheating!" And with a swish of blonde hair, she ran off.

Puck hovered over the ground for a moment as he watched her run off towards the cabin. His throbbing head and the responding ache in his arm clashed against the giddy grin that was stretched across his face, relief bursting through him. Grimm hadn't expected him to be all mushy-gushy-lovey-dovey, she hadn't expected him to treat her like a wussy.

And if he played his cards right, she never would. All he had to do was tease, banter, and fight with her, and then there would be no time to talk about kisses, the puberty virus, and any other nasty grown-up thing. Then, everything would be normal.

The fairy began to fly after her, ignoring the part of him, the one that was over one thousand years old and refused to stay a kid, that told him nothing was ever going to be normal again. Instead he just flew faster, eagerly embracing the childish side he loved that told him nothing was ever going to change.

. . .

Breathe in . . .

_Flowers . . . bright and colorful . . . floral scent mixing with the smell of freshly baked bread . . ._

Breathe out . . .

_Frowning . . . never smiling . . . always worried . . . afraid . . ._

_"Why don't you go visit Grandma?"_

Breathe in . . . breathe out . . .

_Big ears . . . long nose . . . hairy man . . . sharp teeth . . ._

Breathe in . . . breathe out . . . breathe in . . . breathe out. . .

_Shards of glass . . . red . . . red everywhere . . ._

Breathe in . . . breathe out . . . breathe in . . . breathe out . . . breathe in . . . breathe out . . .

_Smiling kitty . . . growling monsters . . . where's grandma . . . where's mommy . . . daddy . . . daddy . . ._

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out . . .

_Freedom . . . a cliff . . . a man . . . daddy . . ._

_"Let's go play with daddy, kitty!"_

Breatheinbreatheoutbreathein breatheoutbreatheinbreatheou tbreatheinbreatheout. . .

_A scream . . .a shout . . . a roar . . . grandma_

A blazing symbol, strange and foreign, flashed across her mind, slicing through the unwanted memories with white heat. A wave of intensity, of power, accompanied it, burning through her veins in a way that left her gasping, burning every inch of her in its eagerness to get out, _out, **OUT!**_

A loud crash reverberated through the once silent air, and, as suddenly as it had come, the burning sensation left.

Little Red Riding Hood's eyes snapped open, her chest heaving in panicked gasps. Her eyes flickered frantically around the small room, taking in the sparse furniture, the bed tucked into the corner and the wooden desk positioned in front of the window. Her fingers curled into tight fists, the nails digging into her skin in response to the unexpected interruption to her mediation.

She could feel her heart pounding hysterically in her chest, could feel the senseless urge to run, to hide, to get somewhere safe, take hold of her. The little girl forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to calm herself down the way Mr. Canis had taught her. _Close your eyes, slow your breathing, focus on something pleasant. _But her eyes remained open, focusing on the swirling pieces of dust, highlighted by the sunlight leaking in through the room's sole window, instead of on the painfully dragged up images of snarling monsters and dying men that lurked behind closed eyelids.

And that symbol.

Red slowly uncurled her hands, gazing down at the crescent shaped marks her nails had left on her palms, her lips curved in a slight frown. She couldn't remember ever having seen that symbol before . . . but then again, half of the memories that lurked around in her head were foreign to her. And then there was that . . . _feeling_.

A shiver ran over her as she looked around from her seated position in the middle of the room for whatever had made that shattering noise, fear curling inside of her at the thought of being close to something that had broken. It wasn't long before her eyes landed on the shattered remains of what had once been a vase.

The pieces of glass glittered from where they were strewn out on the table and the floor. Green and yellow shreds of the bright daisies the vase had once held mingled in with the shards of glass, a faint floral smell filling the room.

Red stared at the broken glass and shredded remnants of flowers as puzzlement, and a few faint traces of denial, bubbled inside of her. She lifted herself off the floor slowly, her eyes never leaving the twinkling glass. Obviously, a gust of wind must have blown in through the open window and knocked the vase over . . . since when did that turn flowers into shreds? Red brushed the thought aside as she moved towards the mess, already panicking at the thought of having to tell Granny that one of her vases had broken. Maybe she could just ask Mr. Canis to . . .

The window was shut.

The little girl stared at the window for what felt like an eternity, her light eyes locked onto the defiantly closed pane of glass as a cold feeling began to creep up her spine. A string of _no no no_'s erupted inside of her mind, voicing her bewilderment. If the window was closed, how had the vase . . .?

The door opened with such force that it slammed against the wall with a satisfied _thunk_! Little Red Riding Hood spun around, eyes wide with panic, her heart almost stopping with freight. A breathless Daphne stood in the doorway, cheeks red and tips of her pigtails sticking out from underneath the blue brim of her wizard's hat.

"Red . . . Robin . . . Merry Men . . . forest . . . trouble . . . meeting . . . cabin . . . now!" The other girl spat out the words between deep gasps, and, before Red could even blink, lunged across the room to grab her wrist.

Daphne breathlessly shot out more incomprehensible tidbits of information as she dragged the much older girl out of the room, leaving the shattered glass behind.


	7. A Matter of Morale

**A/N: THE TITLE IS CHANGING! **For the next chapter, look for the title** "Shadows of the Past"**

Not quite as fast as I was hoping for, but it's still a faster update than before, so that has to count for something, right?

Happy belated Easter, Passover, Sunday, and April Fools Day!

* * *

><p>"Absolutely not."<p>

Charming's glare swept over the little group, moving from the annoying fairy, the small Grimm and the shaking bundle of red cloth that was hiding behind her, to finally clash with Sabrina's exasperated look. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame, effectively blocking their entrance into his cabin. Sabrina rolled her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips, and tried to ignore the sneaking suspicion that the frame was the only thing keeping Charming on his feet.

There were numerous adjectives Sabrina could use to describe the Prince. Arrogant. Annoying. Rude. Jerkish. Selfish. But looking at him now, the only one that seemed to find its way into her head was _exhausted._ Bruise like circles under red-shot eyes spoke of sleepless nights spent pouring over maps and battle strategies, desperately trying to find ways to lower the death count. The slumped shoulders and wisps of guilt that flashed through his blue eyes whispered of failures. Black stubble shadowed the once disturbingly well-shaved chin, and his hair was scandalously messy despite the frustrated hands that, like clock-work, would fly upwards to flatten the rebellious strands.

Just looking at him made the girl want to curl up into a ball and sleep for the next few years. But that still didn't give him a reason to be a jerk.

"But maybe we can help with whatever's going on . . ._ please_." The word slithered through Sabrina's stubbornly gritted teeth. She tried to school her features into her best 'nice' and 'understanding' expression, but from Puck's snort and the slight narrowing of Charming's eyes, she guessed her face didn't end up looking that way.

"Pretty please?" Daphne turned on her puppy dog look, brown eyes wide and pleading from underneath the brim of her wizard's hat, while Sabrina sent her elbow into Puck's side.

Charming's eyes flickered over to the little girl, and for just a second, his firm resolve wavered from under the wave of sheer cuteness, but then he yanked his gaze away from Daphne to focus instead on the glaring blond in front of him. "No. There's no way I'm going to let a bunch of dirty kids-"

"Aw, thanks, Charmy," Puck interrupted, nonchalantly picking his nose.

The man's lips curled in utter disgust. "-into my cabin. Besides," his glare returned to Sabrina. "I have some of the best military experts already in that room; there is nothing that we could possibly need your help with." His voice lacked any of the usual vehemence, as if he was merely going through the familiar motions of their 'relationship' without putting any real meaning into it. Which was rather insulting.

Sabrina shoved back the anger bubbling inside of her, curling her fingers into fists at her side. She reminded herself that the man in front of her was fighting a losing war. He was surrounded by a bunch of people who would rather give up than fight another day, and that his army was hopelessly out-skilled and out-numbered. So, since he was under so much stress, she decided to be nice.

"I will kick you in the shins."

". . .yo . .wha . . ." Shock flashed across Charming's face before morphing into realization and anger. "You'll do what?"

"If you don't let us inside that cabin, then I will kick you in the shins." She spoke the words slowly, as if explaining a concept to a little child, and raised an eyebrow at the sputtering man in front of her.

"Oh, please don't let us in!" The fairy paused in the excavation of his nose to send a wide grin at Charming, "I haven't kicked anyone in way too long!"

Sabrina hadn't known it was physically possible for a person's face to turn as red as Charming's did. His face a color that would make a fire hydrant jealous, the man's incredulous eyes moved from Sabrina's serious expression, to Puck's overly eager one, to Daphne's hopeful smile, and Red's petrified face, his mouth opening and closing to release short clips of outraged noise. Finally, with a half-smothered scream, he stepped aside.

"Fine, it's the second door on your left. But don't _you_ dare touch anything." He pointed a finger at the fairy.

"Good choice." Sabrina nodded her head at him as she slipped past and into the cabin.

"Dang it, I was hoping to practice my kicking," Puck muttered as he followed her inside, sending the Prince a crooked smirk. "But I guess there's always tomorrow!"

"Thank you!" Daphne gave William a wide smile when she walked past, Red practically clinging to her back.

"Don't mention it," he muttered, slamming the door shut behind him.

Unsurprisingly, Charming's cabin was considerably larger than any of the others. Sabrina's ratty sneakers thumped against the dark wooden floor, the polish now dimmed by the mud of countless boots, as she made her way down the hallway. Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the handle to the appropriate room, her body hesitating just a second as her eyes moved towards the other shut doors that lined the hallway. She shoved her curiosity down with a promise to sneak back at some later time to see what Charming was hiding behind the closed doors, and twisted the handle, stepping into a room that was at least two sizes larger than Granny's living room.

Not a single window interrupted the smooth wooden walls, the only light coming from the glowing orbs that bobbed around the room, courtesy of one of the witches, filling the room with a soft light and fuzzy shadows. A large map of Ferryport Landing covered the back wall, red and blue tacks dotting the surface. A long table took up the majority of the room, surrounded by uncomfortable looking chairs, most of them already occupied by the 'military experts'.

Snow White was sitting beside King Arthur, a polite smile on her lips as she listened to the man discuss the benefits of having a round table instead of a rectangular one. Mr. Seven was sitting on the King's right, balancing on the tower of books stacked on his seat, his bald head bent studiously over a stack of papers. Little John's loud voice filled the entire room as he talked to whoever might be listening about how the kitchen needed to serve cheese pastries, while Robin Hood paced behind him, the Archer's chair left forgotten. Granny Relda was nodding her head at Little John and King Arthur, "_oh_"s and "_I see, how interesting_"s leaving her lips every now and then as she attempted to be involved in both of the conversations. Henry was sitting beside his mother, leaning his head against one of his hands and looking like he was about to pass out from boredom . . .until he saw Sabrina.

Sabrina quickly made her way over to her father and tried to ignore how she felt like a mother duck as the others followed right behind her. Henry's bored expression shifted into confusion, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he stared at the kids, his eyes sparking with just enough concern to send a spike of irritation through Sabrina. "Why are you here?"

"For the meeting, duh," Puck rolled his eyes as he sprawled into the empty chair beside Hank. "I can see where Grimm gets her brains from."

Henry glared at the fairy before turning back to his daughters. "You two really shouldn't be here," he said, ignoring the affronted looks that crossed Sabrina and Daphne's faces.

"It's just a meeting, Henry." Granny Relda placed a winkled hand on her son's arm, quickly intervening as the two girls' mouths were opening in protest. "They're perfectly safe, and it's their right to know what's going on. They're a part of this war, too."

Charming's voice, loaded with irritation and wounded pride, stopped Henry from answering his mother. "You need to control your spawn, Henry," William snapped as he stormed into the room.

Hank raised a questioning eyebrow at the Prince, "Oh, really?" His gaze slid over to Sabrina, who rolled her eyes, before moving back to Charming. "What'd she do?"

"The spoiled brat threatened to kick me!"

Sabrina prepared herself for the lecture that she knew was coming, and surprise widened her eyes at the smile that tugged at the corner of her father's lips. "Well, she's allowed to kick jerks," he said, winking at his daughter.

"Henry," Granny Relda gently admonished while she sent Sabrina a slightly disappointed look, through the girl could see the amusement twinkling in the old woman's eyes.

"Typical Grimms," Charming growled, his boots hitting the floor a bit too hard as he made his way to his far more comfortable looking seat at the head of the table. Halfway there, his eyes landed on Snow White, her red lips curved downwards, and he froze. His gaze moved from the woman to Relda, back to Snow, and then to Relda again. His facial features twisted into a pained expression, Sabrina guessed that he was aiming for a kind smile, as he turned to Granny, his words squeezing past his teeth. "Can I interest you in some coffee or . . . something, Relda?"

The old woman blinked in surprise, her lips moving into a warm smile that seemed to melt some of the pain off of Charming's face. "Oh, how sweet! No, thank you, William."

"Wow," Little John stared at the Prince as if he had just appeared out of thin air and, beneath the curly hair of his beard, his lips twitched into a smile. "That was actually . . .nice!"

Robin Hood stopped pacing to grin widely at Charming, "Looks like Snow's been training you well!"

"Shut up, you idiots!" His snap sounded half-hearted, probably because the man was too busy melting under Snow's smile to really put any hate into his words.

"You still have some work to do," Little John muttered to Snow.

Charming answered with a pointed glare before moving to sink into his seat.

"Are you going to offer anyone else some coffee?" King Arthur piped up. "Because I would really enjoy a caffeinated beverage."

"Oh, and some tea!" Little John added, his eyes lighting with excitement. "And maybe a few biscuits."

"And jam! You can't have biscuits without jam," Robin Hood nodded his head sagely, a smirk tugging his lips.

Charming's black eyebrows drew together into an angry line as he glared at each of the men, but Sabrina couldn't help but notice that some of the weariness had left the fairytale's face. Like the bantering, annoyances, and the little bit of normal were helping the Prince loosen up, and reminding him that he wasn't really alone in all of this.

"No. I'm not. Deal with it." Charming turned to Robin, "Now-"

The door swung open, cutting Charming's sentence off. Mr. Canis practically ran in, his cane stabbing the floor with _thuds_ loud enough to make William wince. Goldilocks followed close on his heels, arms gesturing and green eyes pleading for understanding. "But it's not healthy . . ."

The strangled noise of what sounded like a dying whale stopped her short. Everyone turned to see Charming slowly rising from his chair, eyes wide and one hand lifted to point at the blond beauty. "No! I am putting my foot down! _You_ are not allowed in here!"

Goldilocks put her hands on her hips, her green eyes narrowing into a glare, while Mr. Canis hastily made his way over to the rest of the Grimms. "I'm not here for your meeting, William." Her eyes moved to follow Mr. Canis, and a smile spread across her face when she spotted Red. "Hello, Red! How're you . . ."

"For the love of sanity, get out!" Prince Charming shouted, the violent red color returning to his face.

"Fine!" Her golden curls fanned out behind her as she turned to go, her head held high. Just as she reached the door, she turned around, her words hurriedly flying from her mouth. "You know, if you just move the table a little over to the left, you wouldn't be so cranky!"

"OUT!" Charming roared. Goldilocks quickly turned and left, pointedly slamming the door behind her.

William fell back into his seat, running his hands over his face while Snow patted his shoulder, an amused smirk curling her lips.

"What was Goldilocks talking to you about?" Daphne whispered to Mr. Canis as the man glared at Puck until the fairy, with far more groaning than was necessary, rolled out of his seat.

Pale blue eyes shifted to stare at Little Red as the man sat down. "Nothing," he muttered.

A frown pulled the edges of her lips down as suspicion curled inside of Sabrina, but Snow White's voice stopped her from questioning him any further.

"What is it that you wanted to report?" Snow turned to look at Robin, curiosity flashing in her blue eyes.

The Archer immediately straightened, an uncharacteristically serious expression crossing both his and Little John's face. "When we were out patrolling the forests, we ran into something . . . unexpected."

"Pirates." Little John clarified.

Charming's head snapped up from his hands, his blue eyes suddenly intense and alert as they locked onto Robin Hood. "What?"

"Yeah," Little John nodded his head. "We followed them to the river and . . . it looks like it's Captain Hook."

"What?" Henry's brow furrowed in confusion as he shifted in his seat, leaning forward just an inch. "But he's supposed to be in Neverland. How did he get here?"

"Probably the same way Peter Pan did," Mr. Seven said, ignoring Puck's disgusted flinch. "With pixie dust."

"But Hook being here isn't the main problem," Robin Hood leaned against the table, his eyes focusing on Charming. "The pirates took a kid."

With that one sentence, everyone's undivided attention was on Robin Hood. Mr. Seven's head lifted from the paper in front of him so fast Sabrina could have sworn she heard his neck crack. The King slammed his fist onto the table, eyes blazing, while Snow didn't move, save for a slight twitch in her dominant hand**. **Relda's hand flew to her mouth, not fast enough to stop the "oh, no" that gasped past her lips. Mr. Canis leaned against the back of his chair, his pale eyes staring at some unseeable thing in the middle of the table, long fingers absently running over the wood of his cane. Henry's eyes immediately shifted to look at Sabrina and Daphne before moving back to Robin, his hands curling into tight fists.

Daphne reached over and grabbed Sabrina's hand, while Red moved closer to Mr. Canis. Puck stopped trying to punch the glowing orbs, his eyes drifting over to the Archer, his ever present grin slipping just an inch.

"What kid?" Every inch of Charming hardened, his shoulders stiffened, lips pressed into a thin line, and an indignant anger burned in his eyes.

Little John and Robin shared a quick look. "We don't know, exactly," Little John said, taking his hat off his head so he could run his fingers through his hair. "We weren't able to get a good look at the boy . . . but he didn't seem to be anyone we know."

"But we came to report it to you as soon as we could, just like you wanted us to." Robin nodded his head at the Prince. "So, since you're our . . . leader and all, how do you want us to save the kid?" Just from the small twist of his lips and the way he bounced slightly on his feet, Sabrina could tell that Robin was finding it difficult to concede even that much authority over to Charming.

The girl's gaze moved to Charming, her fingers tightening around her little sister's hand. Her blue eyes narrowed as anger began to burn in her stomach. An itch to race onto the pirate ship and beat the snot out of every single pirate before the Scarlet Hand had a chance to ruin someone else's life coursed through her, urging her feet to move.

She watched as the Prince leaned back in his chair, and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes closed, and his shoulders lifted with a heavy sigh. When his eyes opened again, what little bit of amusement had been there just a few moments ago was gone, squashed by a bone numbing weariness. "We don't." The words didn't come out in a whisper, and yet the tone that carried them was hushed, soft, and full of regret.

Silence filled the cabin as every single pair of eyes turned to stare at him. Shock kept Sabrina's mouth shut as the thought of _he didn't just say that_ careened around her mind. Really, he couldn't have just said that.

"My apologies, but I must have misheard you," King Arthur's voice broke the silence, his brow furrowed as he stared at Charming in confusion. "What did you say?"

"I said," his voice carried more strength and authority this time around, and his blue eyes met Arthur's with boldness. "We can't do anything to save him. Not yet, at least."

"What do you mean, we _can't_ do anything?" Robin stared at William as if he had just chopped off his own hand. "We have a whole army out there. How can you possibly mean we can't do anything?"

"It's too risky," Mr. Seven muttered, understanding making his eyes widen as he leaned back in his chair. From the way his shoulders slumped, and his eyes drifted to stare at the table, the realization didn't bring him any kind of happiness.

"What?" Little John's incredulous voice was far too loud for the small cabin, bouncing off the walls in a way that made Sabrina want to cover her ears and tell the man to shut up.

"You said it yourself that you didn't know who the kid is." Charming snapped, his frustration and fatigue shifting into irritation.

"And?" Robin's tone matched Charming's, the man's arms crossing over his chest as his eyes narrowed.

"How do we know he isn't part of the Scarlet Hand? How do we know he didn't come in with the pirates? How do we know this isn't a trap?" Charming spat the words out, his face growing angrier with each question.

"That's one freakishly elaborate plan," Robin Hood snorted. "And how could they have possibly known that we were going to be in that exact spot of the forest?"

"The Scarlet Hand has been one step ahead of us since before this war began," Mr. Canis muttered.

"And I wouldn't put it past them to pull a trick like that." Snow White massaged her temples with her fingers, her lips drawn in a thin line. "It's possible that they've been in that part of the forest for hours, just waiting for someone to come close enough to see their charade."

"So you're saying that we should leave some kid at the mercy of pirates on the off chance that this is some elaborate trap?" Robin Hood's face was twisted into a look of incredulity. "Why don't you just send some men after them? Even if it is a trap, my men and I could still handle a bunch of pirates."

"Morale!" Charming pushed himself out of his chair hard enough to send the seat crashing onto the floor, his shout reverberating around the room. "That's why I can't!"

"Morale?" Daphne whispered, turning wide eyes to Sabrina for an explanation.

"It's like confidence," Sabrina muttered absently, her eyes locked onto Charming and Robin Hood.

"Wha . . . what kind of stupid . . . morale?" The Archer spluttered.

"Yes, morale." Charming's fingers curled into fists on top of the table as his voice shook with rage. 'What do you think would happen if I sent some men to go save an unknown kid, and it ended up being a trap and more good people died, huh?" He jabbed a finger at the door, eyes not once leaving Robin. "What do you think would happen to the other Everafters? Do you think they would still feel like fighting?"

The Prince turned away from the table, and ran his hands through his hair, before turning back to Robin, his lips twisted in a violent scowl. "I don't expect you to possibly understand this, since you've never had the wonderful opportunity to fight a losing war, but if more men die because of some stupid trap, everyone's going to want to give up. I just barely managed to get them to actually want to fight. I can't jeopardize that."

"Then send my men, or Arthur's knights!" Robin replied, jerking his head towards the nodding King Arthur.

"That would just make it worse." Snow said, a frown pulling her lips down.

"Your men are the only few in this camp who actually know how to fight," Charming explained. "Your men are the ones that everyone else looks to. Your men are the ones they put their hope in. If _any_ of your men were to die because of a stupid mistake, this whole army would crumble." The shadows that danced across his face seemed to suck the anger and life out of his features, leaving behind a war weary general.

"How can you possibly expect me to just sit around and do nothing to save an innocent child?" King Arthur's eyes were alight with indignation.

"You can comfort yourself in the fact that you weren't the one who made the decision." Charming turned away from the table to stare at the map, running a hand over his face and through his hair.

"This is . . . ridiculous." Robin turned around to stare at Henry, desperate for some understanding. "Hank, what would you do if it was one of your kids? Would you just sit here?"

"Of course I wouldn't!" Henry snapped, "But I would do it myself, and not send other people in to possibly get hurt."

"Well," King Arthur threw his hands up. "I certainly hope the kid's got a parent that's just as dedicated as you are!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henry growled, his body tensing as his glare clashed with Arthur's.

"Both of you, stop it!" Snow snapped, "Pointlessly arguing isn't going to help anything."

"Help with anything? We aren't even going to do anything!" Robin Hood's voice was barely below a shout, his British accent leaking into his voice.

A fresh wave of arguing erupted, filling the room with the rising and falling pitches of anger, frustration, and resignation. Sabrina didn't hear a single word, her blue eyes drifting down to stare at Daphne's hand clasped in her own, King Arthur's words running around in her mind.

_How can you possibly expect me to just sit around and do nothing to save an innocent child?_

_ Do nothing._

_ Do nothing._

_ Do nothing._

The two words spun around in her mind, mocking and daring, and mixing with the infuriating look of concern her father had given her earlier. Both fueled the angry determination that sparked inside of her, like sticks thrown onto a growing fire. She knew firsthand what it was like to be stuck in a terrible place, to feel that horrible, gut wrenching sense that no one was going to save her, all because of what the Scarlet Hand had done to her family. And no one was ever going to feel that same kind of breath-taking helplessness. Not if she could help it.

Sabrina tucked her hair behind her ear, blocking out the adults' loud voices, as her lips flattened into a tight line. No, they didn't need to just wait. What they needed was someone who could sneak onto the pirate ship without being detected. Someone who could save the idiot who had gotten himself captured, and get information on what Hook was doing in Ferryport Landing. Someone like the Queen of Sneaks herself.

"Why don't we just send the Phoenix?" Little John's rumbling voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back into reality.

"She can't kill." Granny Relda answered.

"Well, that's helpful." King Arthur grumbled.

"I'm going to see if Mom needs any help." Sabrina whispered the words into her father's ear, trying to keep her voice low enough so Daphne wouldn't hear.

Her father's gaze moved over to her, a brief flicker of suspicion flashing in his eyes. He nodded his head and gave her a quick, one-armed hug. "I'll come tell you what we plan to do as soon as the meeting's over." The words were spoken softly, but Sabrina could sense the firm warning that crawled underneath the whisper. His brown eyes steadily held her blue ones, seriousness making itself clear in the slight press of his lips and crinkle of his forehead.

"Good." Her lips formed the word before her brain could fully register it. She gave Daphne's hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away from the little girl's grasp, shoving back the sudden thought that she wouldn't have readily lied to her father like that two years ago. She ignored the curious looks her sister and Puck sent her as she left, shutting the door with a barely audible click.

A cool breeze brushed against her face, making her realize just how stifling it had been inside that cabin. She filled her lungs with a breath of fresh air, her blue eyes swiftly glancing around for any possible witnesses. With night only an hour or so away, not many people were milling about the camp, and those who were out were too busy yawning to notice anything.

She started to walk in the direction of the infirmary, just in case someone happened to notice her. She passed the food tent, snatching a knife off a table with little hesitation, its owner too busy mourning his bruised knee to notice. It was better safe than sorry.

After a quick glance over her shoulder, she slipped between a row of cabins, using the shadows that clung to the buildings to her advantage. With light steps, she headed towards one of the few hidden escape routes she had found around the camp. This one, hidden behind the cabin (or what was left of the cabin) where soldiers practiced handling explosive magic, was a hole just big enough for someone her size to slip through.

She slowly slid around the hut, careful to avoid the many holes that dotted the building, holding her breath against the smell of burnt wood and hair, and freezing whenever she heard voices from inside. She moved the pile of leaves she had tried to cover the hole with- not that it really helped, but it was better than nothing-, got down onto her belly, and wiggled her way through the wall and to the other side.

Wet dirt stuck to her palms as she pushed herself to her feet and swiftly ran under the protection of the forest, wincing when her sneakers collided with the thick carpet of crunchy leaves. She stopped just a few feet away from the forest's edge, trying to remember which direction led to the river.

"I could have just flown you out, you know."

At the first syllable, she was turning around, her fist already flying towards the sound of the voice. The fairy moved just in time to avoid losing some of his teeth, green eyes wide with shock. "Geez, Grimm! You really need to learn how to relax."

"You're right. I'm just in a forest that's filled with all kinds of creatures that want me dead. There's absolutely no reason for me to be tense. At all." Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she scowled at him, forcing her heartbeat to calm down. "You're lucky I didn't hurt you."

"You wouldn't have hurt him!" Daphne poked her head out from behind Puck, her lips parting in a big grin. "You care about him too much."

"Daphne?!" A groan pushed its way past her lips. "What are you two doing here?" Apparently, her sneaking skills weren't what they used to be.

"Following you to the pirate ship!" Daphne stepped out from behind the fairy, pushing her hat back up on her head.

Sabrina crossed her arms over her chest, "And why would you think I'd be going there?"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Because you did the hair tuck-y thingy." He pantomimed the act with just enough exaggeration to make Sabrina's skin crawl with a mixture of anger and self-consciousness. "You only do that when you're determined to do something." He raised his eyebrows in pride. "And you said I couldn't use big words."

"Puck, 'determined' isn't a big word. And fine, _I'm_ going to the pirate ship. You two are staying here." She put on her best 'do what I say' glare before turning and walking away.

They just followed her.

"You'd think she'd have learned by now," Puck muttered, and Sabrina didn't have to look to know that Daphne was nodding her head.

Sabrina spun around, her glare stopping the other two in their tracks. A thousand ways to get them to leave raced through her brain, though she knew none of them would work. The only way would be to abort the mission and go back to the camp, the thought of which made Sabrina's stomach curl with the anger of defeat. "Fine, but you both have to do everything I say. And if things go bad, you," she jabbed a finger at the fairy, blue eyes deadly serious, "fly Daphne out of there. Or. I. Will. Kill. You."

"Uh, hello!" Puck pointed at himself. "Trickster King, ruler of pure awesomeness, and master of cool ninja skills!" His lips twisted into a smirk as he brandished his wooden sword. "Those pirates won't know what hit them."

Sabrina snorted and rolled her eyes. "Your stink will give them plenty of warning."

Puck grinned. "Wow, two compliments in one day! It must be my birthday." He ran in front of Sabrina, pushing the girl aside. "Not so fast, Miss Prissy, leading is a man's job. Now, follow me!" With a shout that probably let everything in Ferryport Landing know where they were, the fairy plunged into the forest.

"I'm going to kill him," Sabrina growled as she and Daphne followed the loud noises Puck was making. She looked down at her sister to see a far too large smile on the little girl's face. One of those "I would squeal right now if I could because it's so cute" smiles that Sabrina always dreaded. "What is it?"

Daphne turned to look at her older sister, and, despite the laws of the human anatomy, her smile grew larger. "He pointed out your hair tuck-y thingy."

"So?"

"So," Daphne voice quivered with far too much excitement, her brown eyes shining. "That means he pays attention to you! It's so cute!"

Sabrina blinked at Daphne before quickly turning her head away as a blush warmed her cheeks, hoping that the other girl wouldn't notice. "Be quiet, Daphne."


	8. A Chapter Full of Fools

**A/N:** Just in case you're curious, I don't own Koschei the Deathless. He belongs to whoever created him. I found out about him while researching Baba Yaga, and realized that a sorcerer who had a tendency to steal other men's wives was too good to pass up. However, I have taken some liberties with his character.

On another note, I'm not so sure about Baba Yaga's part. Was she Yagay enough?

And I apologize in advance for the horrible Pirate speak.

As always, feel free to let me know what you think about the chapter/story.

* * *

><p>She became aware of the birds first. The quick, high-pitched notes drifted into her consciousness, slowly pulling her out of the thick darkness that had surrounded her. The cold, slightly damp dirt made its presence known against the palms of her hands, while her back became aware of the rocks and roots that were slowly trying to burrow their way into her skin. Her long, gnarled fingers brushed against the dirt as her eyes moved underneath closed lids, searching inside herself for any hint as to why she was stretched out on the ground.<p>

. . .the soap opera . . .Demetri . . ._her home_. . .

The memories came flooding back, flickering across her mind like snapshots, and she began to mentally check herself for any injuries. Nothing was broken . . . nothing was sprained . . . and nothing was bleeding or bruised. Her limbs were free of any bonds, and no paralyzing spell tied her to the earth.

She was perfectly fine.

Set aside on the ground like an insignificant tool.

Baba Yaga's eyes snapped open, her dead eye glowing white with anger. A furious shriek parted her lips as her fingers dug deep into the earth. A hurricane-like gust, fueled by her powers and rage, tore through the trees, dislodging birds, squirrels, dead leaves, and pieces of ash, and flinging them off to some unknown place.

There is nothing more insulting than to be at the complete mercy of an enemy and wake up without a scratch.

The witch sat up with a muttered curse, her movement knocking off the leaves and dirt that had covered her during her slumber. Her hair stood out around her in a crazed version of a lion's mane as she pushed herself to her feet and made her way back to the wreckage of her home, her hands sending white flames at any branch or foliage that dared to stand in her way.

"Thinks I'm not a threat, does he? Thinks there's no need to kill me, does he?" The words flew from her lips in a vexed rage as she rounded a tree and laid eyes on what was left of her hut.

The Russian Witch was no stranger to anger. She felt the burning emotion every time someone tried to back out of their side of a deal, though then the feeling was softened by a sense of annoyance and the excitement of the chase and the soon to be had feast. But as her eyes took in the splintered wood, broken glass, and the T.V. resting in the middle of the blackened circle, there was nothing to dull the rage that boiled within her. An anger that leaked out of every pore, that made her fingers vibrate. The kind of anger that she knew was useless, pointless, ridiculous. The kind of anger that brought about the downfall of so many people. The type that she had no time for.

With no more than a slight clinch of her jaw, Baba Yaga filed the anger away, patiently storing it until a time when it would better serve her purpose, and instead turned her attention to the calm, methodic planning that she had mastered over the centuries. She mulled over all of the people that were at her fingertips, all those who lived in Ferryport Landing, their possible uses and weaknesses, and her mind latched onto a particular group of _righteous_ people.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as a plan already started to form in her head. If Demetri thought that a few burnt pieces of wood were going to keep her down, then he was more of a fool than she had previously thought. She was going to get her revenge, and she was going to do so in a way that was going to keep her entertained. But, before she began her plan, she needed to make sure she had as much information as possible.

The Hag of the Hills walked around the remains of her home, her eyes wandering over the bits and pieces, taking stock of what was left and making sure that it would be enough. While she walked, she thought back over her encounter with the fallen phoenix, the red amulet he had worn over his neck burning itself into her memory. How exactly had Demetri learned of the amulets? Their existence had been kept a secret by only a small group of people, most of whom she knew were dead (she may or may not have eaten them).

She had a few documents – scribbles and guesswork, really- that mentioned them, but she knew that none of them had left her possession, and she would have sensed it had anyone so much as taken a peak at them. The only other person who had any form of written documentation was . . .

The witch stopped walking, her boots sending puffs of ash into the air as a Russian curse blew from her lips. She shook her head, a brief spark of annoyance flashing through her. There was no doubt in her mind that the idiot was the reason Demetri knew of the amulets, though there was still the problem of figuring out how much the shadow knew. It was possible that Demetri was only armed with bits and snippets to guide him, or he could know everything. The only way for her to be sure was to take to _him_.

A scowl curled on Baba Yaga's face at the unpleasant thought. But first, she needed to attend to her hut.

She threw her head back, filling her lungs with a deep breath of charred wood and burnt leaves. Her arms stretched out at her side, the palms of her hands turning to face the sky. "My faithful servants," her voice drifted through the still air, the words carried on the lilt of a magical summoning. "My soul friends, come here!"

With a slight hiss, three pairs of disembodied hands appeared in front of her. They frantically bobbed in the air, gently nudging each other out of the way, as if to show their eagerness to do whatever their mistress ordered.

She pointed a finger at the wreckage and snapped, "Fix it. But you," a pair of hands froze under her gaze as the others flew off towards her shattered home. "Go get me an egg."

Baba Yaga turned away, not waiting to see the hands dip in a sort of bow before zooming away to fulfill their quest. "There's someone I need to talk to."

* * *

><p>There were a few days when Captain Hook was able to entertain the fantasy that his crew wasn't filled with complete idjits. Days when he was able to claw his way through the embarrassment and rage of having lost to that infuriating Pan by pretending that the pirates who surrounded him were actually bloodthirsty, conniving, and intelligent.<p>

Today wasn't one of those days.

The cool breeze toyed with the edges of Hook's once flamboyant coat, and filled the air with the gentle slap of the sails. His eyes drifted over his crew, taking in with a hint of despair the identically proud grins that stretched across their pockmarked. Just by looking at their eager expressions he could already feel the type of headache this little meeting was going to give him, the pain waiting for just the right moment to attack. Most of the pirates were huddled into a group in front of the main mast, nudging each other with sun-browned elbows, their scrawny chests puffing with pride. The more monkey-like ones had climbed the rigging to get a better view, their limbs hanging precariously off the rope while their eyes glinted with curiosity.

Smee was standing on Hook's right, nervously running his hands over his tattered clothes, and shifting his weight between his left and right foot. Every five seconds or so, he would glance out of the corner of his eyes to stare at his captain's long mustache, terrified that every little twitch of the black hairs was a sign that Hook wasn't pleased. Being confined to the ship until the Master sent a guide had already put the Captain in a foul mood, and it would only take a small annoyance to push the man over the edge.

Hook almost didn't say anything. He almost kept the words locked behind closed lips, forever sealed in his mind. He almost pretended that Smee had never knocked on his door, had never told him that the crew had something to show him. He almost turned and walked back into his courters.

But they would have just followed him.

His shoulders lifted with the sigh of a man diving headfirst into stormy water. "What is it?" His voice came out in a snap, just sharp enough to cause Smee to jump an inch.

The grins on the pirates' faces widened as someone began to shove their way through the crowd, loudly shouting curses and commands to move it. A deck hand finally managed to push his way to the front, shoving two other crew members aside with a rather extravagant flick of his free hand. His other hand was clamped firmly around a coarse rope, which was wrapped tightly around the bound hands of a person. The pirate had thrown a burlap sack over the captive's head (disorienting prisoners was one of the few things that his crew was good at), though, even with his face covered, it was still obviously a boy.

Hook's heart skipped a beat as he leaned forward just an inch, his eyes locking onto the kid. Excitement and the sweet taste of revenge burst inside of him . . .until he registered the blue pants and ratty jacket, and the different height. All hope shriveled up and died, leaving anger and a growing irritation inside of him.

The deck hand came to a halt a few feet in front of his captain, throwing the captive down on the wooden planks. "Cap'n," the man's grin revealed a few teeth handing on for dear life, "we caught us a Grimm!"

Hook's beady gaze drifted down to the prisoner, who couldn't have been much older than a cabin boy. And he was a boy.

And with a pounding reminiscent of a tribe of Indians banging on drums, the headache attacked.

"Smee," even without looking, he knew the smaller man had snapped straight at the mention of his name. "What are the names of the two youngest Grimm scum?"

"Uh . . .I . . .um . . .I'm not sure . . ." Smee's face puckered in desperate thought as he hurriedly tried to answer his captain's question. "Uh . . .Sara and . . .Darlene?"

"Both girl names?" Without waiting for an answer, he pointed his hook at the bound cretin. "That is obviously not a girl." Hook paused a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied the captive. "Unless things have changed a lot since we've been on earth."

From the indignant muffle that erupted from the boy, Hook guessed that wasn't the case. He turned his attention back to his crew just in time to see the smiles drop from their faces, their eyes widen with panic, and their fingers fly though the air as they desperately tried to pin the mistake on someone else.

"It was his idea, Cap'n!"

"He said it be a Grimm!"

"I had nothin' to do with it!"

"SHUT YER MOUTHS OR I'LL CHOP OFF ALL YER TONGUES!" Hook's shout echoed around the ship, effectively silencing his crew. Dark eyes smoldering with rage locked onto the deck hand as the other pirates nervously took a step back. "What I want to know," his voice rolled from his throat in a rough growl, "is how you found him when you were ordered to stay on the ship?"

"Well . . .I . . .uh . . .we . . .we thought . . . " The deck hand stuttered frantically, twisting his fingers in the tattered cloth of his shirt. "We . . .uh . . ."

"Did anyone see you?" The Master was not going to be happy if someone from Charming's army found out that Hook was in Ferryport Landing so soon. His leader had wanted his arrival to be kept a secret for as long as possible. Apparently, someone else was trying to get his hands on that Grimm scum's journal. And if this bilge-rat made him look bad in front of the Master . . .

The blood drained from the deck hand's face, leaving his skin a sickly pale color. His eyes frantically moved around, not once meeting his captain's gaze, and his lips trembled. A sure sign that someone had indeed spotted the stupid pirates.

"N-n-n-n-n-n-n –not r-r-r-r-really . . ." Sweat dripped down the deck hand's face as his words tumbled from his mouth, but Hook wasn't paying any attention to him, his aching mind trying to find a way to . . .discipline the fool.

The river was too small. Even with weights, there was still the possibility that something in the water would cut him free.

"Th-th-the f-f-forest is th-th-thick," the man's calloused hands were shaking violently, and his voice trembled with unshed tears.

A gun would be too loud. And by the Jolly Rodger, he wasn't going to suffer an even larger headache because of this idiot.

"Th-they c-couldn't 'ave s-s-s-seen us . . ."

And getting his hook tarnished with blood was out of the question.

Hook moved his eyes from the shaking fool in front of him to give a half-hearted glare at the more muscular of his crew members. "Stick both of 'em in the bilge." That was a good way to deal with him. Stick the guy to stew in the bilge with the damp and the rats, where his annoying whimpering would be out of Hook's earshot, and let him lose when he learned his lesson. His crew was weak. A day without food was the equivalent of shooting one of 'em in the knee.

He turned to the rest of the crew, ignoring the muffled protests of the captive and deck hand as they were dragged below deck. "Anyone else who decides to disobey orders will be fed to the rats. Now, get back to work."

There was a chorus of 'aye-aye's as the pirates scrambled around the deck, trying to find something that would make them look busy.

Hook turned and stormed to the side of the ship, stabbing his hook into the wooden railing. Fury made the hair on his upper lip tremble and his hand twitch with the desire to strangle anything that dared to breathe. They had been simple orders. Stay on the ship. Do not go onto the shore. The longer unnoticed, the better. And yet, the worthless bunch of idiots hadn't even been able to manage that.

He took a deep breath, and focused on the fact that no Indian calls, no dreaded ticks and tocks, no deceptively pleasant mermaid songs, and no shouts of the Lost Boys reached his ears, no matter how hard he strained his hearing. And slowly, the raging fury died to a smoldering annoyance.

Hook's lips pulled into a thin frown. Waiting for the Scarlet Hand guide to lead him to Mayor Heart was making him antsy and irritated. Whoever it was needed to hurry up before he killed everyone on the ship. Except for Smee. Smee could live. Hook glanced over his shoulder at his first mate, who offered him a wide, lopsided smile.

Goodness, he was getting too sentimental.

Hook's lips pulled back into a snarl of frustration as he turned to Smee. "Push the ship off the shore and put her in the middle of the river, just in case someone does come searching for our guest. And come get me when the guide comes."

He stormed into his cabin, not even noticing Smee nodding his head, his boots thumping against the wooden planks in a way that just made his headache worse. The captain made sure to lock the door before collapsing into his chair, his eyes glancing at the journal on his desk before rolling up to the ceiling. As the loud pounding in his head mercilessly continued, he briefly wondered if there were any pirates in Ferryport Landing looking to join a crew.

* * *

><p>It was starting to get dark, the golden light of day fleeing from the encroaching blackness. The sun hid behind the trees, casting long, finger-like shadows across the Russian Witch's face, sinking into every pore, every winkle, etching her face in black ink. She ran her thumb over the smooth surface of the egg clutched in her hand, her lips dipped in a small frown as she listened to the faint <em>clunks<em> and _thuds_ of her home being reconstructed. She had made sure to move away from the remains of her home, a few trees blocking her vision of the devastation. If he saw it, then there would be little guarantee that he would ever stop talking.

Her frown shifted into a scowl as just a hint of the future annoyance she was bound to feel curled inside of her. She had managed to only have a few encounters with him since the barrier had been erected. She had managed to evade him, since threats proved to be of no affect, hiding her home with a cloaking spell that was too complicated for his 'vast intelligence' when he wandered too close. She had managed to only deem him with minor thoughts that quickly flashed across her mind, gone in a manner of seconds.

But, as the humans say, every good thing must come to an end.

The witch's chapped lips moved to form words carried on a small whisper, before she threw her head back to stare at the patchwork of branches above her. Her dead eye glowed as the familiar sensation of magic coursed through her veins, and when her mouth opened again, her words carried throughout the forest in search of their target. "Koschei the Deathless."

A soft breeze brushed against her skin, the touch of a ghost, before it picked up speed and strength, tearing through the forest. Leaves and branches were sent spinning through the air (but no little creatures. He had an odd fondness for the pests). High pitched screams, drawn out and filled with terror, intertwined themselves with the force of the wind, just haunting enough to send chills down the spines of most normal people.

He certainly had a taste for the dramatic, something she could occasionally appreciate.

Her hair twisted and curled around her, the white strands slapping against her face as if in angry retribution for allowing them to be treated this way. "You'd better be wearing clothes." The wind caught her words and flung them away, but she knew he'd heard her anyway.

The violent wind stopped, coming to a dead halt with what sounded suspiciously close to a _huff_, as if it were offended.

"Do I tell you how to make your grand entrance?"

At the sound of that raspy voice Baba Yaga turned around, her eyes landing on the man leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. His perpetually thin frame was, thankfully, clothed in a ratty suit, the pieces of which didn't match and only made his bare feet stand out. Koschei's thin face was surrounded by long, greasy strands of grey hair, and his beard, a monstrous atrocity that had once stretched down to his feet, was cut off at his chest. His dark eyes watched her from over a long, hooked nose, amusement flickering in the brown irises.

"But, I do understand your reasons." He cocked his head to the side as his lips pulled back into what she could only assume was a sad impression of the infamous 'crooked smile'. "Not many people can contain themselves around such a fine specimen as myself. Should the full extent of my beauty be revealed, you would lose your composure. But you have nothing to worry about; I've found that the ladies love a man in a suit." He gestured to himself, pride oozing out of him. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Baba Yaga allowed her eyes to study the sorcerer from head to toe. "Oh no, dear Koschei, you're too skinny." Her grin was sharp as her eyes lifted to meet his gaze. "I prefer my meals to have more meat on their bones."

A heavy sigh blew past Koschei's lips as he shook his head in sympathy for someone who was obviously blind to the truth. "Oh, Yaga, we both know your desire to eat me is just your way of hiding the burning passion of love you feel towards me. You can't keep hiding your feelings for me forever. One day you'll have to act on them."

The witch's eyes narrowed. "You're right. I just have to find the right recipe for you." Her head moved to the side, her lips curled in thought. "Maybe a stew . . ."

"How about we stop talking about eating me, and get to why you summoned me. Besides the obvious fact that you couldn't live long without seeing my chiseled features." The sorcerer used a puff of wind to push himself off the tree trunk, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. "What is above you, infant?"*

"I need a book that you have in your possession." The witch kept her eyes locked onto Koschei's face, watching his features for any kind of tell. Her fingers curled around the egg behind her back, her only way of making sure the idiot didn't dance around the subject.

"Oh, really?" His eyebrow quirked as his eyes lit up and the corners of his lips pulled upwards into a wide smile. "_You're_ asking for something? Isn't it normally the other way around?"

Her smile revealed sharp teeth. "It's a special occasion."

His shoulders straightened just a hair. He was going to milk the situation as much as possible. "Why should I help you?" His gloating expression shifted to one of hurt and anger, his eyes narrowing. "I seem to recall a time when one of your guardians kicked me in the head."

Baba Yaga allowed a chuckle to pass her lips at the mention of such a pleasant memory before she turned her attention back to Koschei. "Because of this." She held out her hand, the egg displayed clearly on her palm. She let a bit of magic leak through her skin and into the egg, making the shell glow faintly. Just for a little dramatic effect. A cackle broke her lips as Koschei's face paled and his eyes widened. "It really isn't very wise to hide your life source in an egg, Koschei dear. They're very breakable."

His lips opened and closed, a speechless reaction that created a curl of pleasure inside of her. True to form, though, it didn't take him long to find his voice. The sorcerer narrowed his eyes, forcing the surprise out of his expression. "How do I know that's even the right egg?"

Baba Yaga shrugged her shoulders and began to toss the egg between her hands, reveling in the tension and fear that sprouted on his face. "I believe the question you should be asking," she pretended to fumble the egg, grinning when he lunged forward with a small cry, his hands outstretched. "Is if you're willing to take the risk to find out."

"How did you even fin. . ."

She didn't give him a chance to finish his sentence, her one eye glinting with mischief. "How did I find the egg that's in the duck that's in the hare that's in the iron chest? It wasn't very hard."

Koschei sent her a dark glare. He knew her well enough to know she was probably bluffing, but she knew him well enough to know that he would cave. He'd already lived for centuries, and he wasn't one to give up immortality and power to save his ego. "Fine." He snapped. "What book are you looking for?"

She stopped tossing the egg, catching the white object in her hand and closing her fingers around it. She needed his attention on her, not his supposed 'life source'. "The book chronicling the creation of the amulets." She eyed him carefully, searching for any kind of reaction.

And he didn't disappoint. To the eyes of anyone who didn't know Koschei, there was no change in his expression, but Baba Yaga had been unfortunate enough to have his acquaintance for a very long time. Her sharp eyes didn't miss the slight tension that tightened his shoulders, the faint pursing of his lips, or the way his eyes flickered away from hers for just a second before returning with a falsely amused gaze.

"A book about amulets," a laugh that sounded a bit too hollow burst from his lips as his fingers began to tug at his beard. "Do you know how many books about amulets I have? Far too many. Though, not quite as many as books about . . ."

"_The_ amulets." She interrupted him before he could try to change the subject, or run her off with pointless information about the many books he had. "The. Four. Amulets. The book that you no longer own."

His flinch was almost imperceptible. "Oh, you mean _that_ book. The book about the amulets, the book that I may have sold, the book about the wizards." His lips quirked into a sheepish smile. "That book?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, or to even open her mouth. Instead, he plunged onward with his explanation, using a ridiculous amount of hand gestures to aid him in an attempt to appease her. "I know it was a 'priceless artifact' and full of 'valuable information' but . . .but . . .have you seen the humans' form of currency? It's fascinating!" He pulled a coin out of his pocket, stepping closer to show it to her in the diming light. "See? They even stick their faces on them! And, with just this coin, you can buy so many cinematic masterpieces!"

Idiots. She lived in a world full of idiots.

"You sold a book to buy movies."

"_Cinematic masterpieces_." He corrected. "And no, I sold them a long time ago, before the _cinematic masterpieces_ had been invented. I just sold it for a bag of human currency." His crooked grin returned. "Women like men with money."

It was a wonder she hadn't killed him yet. "Who did you sell it to?" She watched as a grin spread across his face, his dark eyes lighting with excitement. She knew it wouldn't take any further prodding to get information out of the man, Koschei always loved to tell stories.

"Not to that man who destroyed your house, if that's what you're wondering." Koschei winked conspiratorially as she glared at him. "I've been keeping tabs on you." He held up his hands and twitched his fingers in an impression of scurrying animals. "You're not the only one with little creature helpers."

The Russian Witch rolled her eyes. "Ah, yes, your intensive network of groundhogs. A few of which I have taken immense pleasure in eating."

"You are a horrible monster." Koschei's accusation didn't lessen his smile, but rather, his grin widened. "I sold the book to a normal traveler in search of some adventure. A man who certainly wasn't afraid to give me all of his money in exchange for a potential treasure map, and, like most humans, he couldn't keep his mouth shut."

"Because only humans have that unpleasant characteristic." The sorcerer ignored her pointed look.

Koschei took a few steps away from her to run a finger along the trunk of the nearest tree, tracing the cracks and holes of the bark. "My guess is that my traveler told someone about the amulets, that person told someone else, and so on until the little remnants of the tale reached your shadowy friend, who must have gone searching for them. And, back in that age, when one needed to find something magical, they would usually go to . . ." He let his sentence die, staring at her expectantly.

"A Grimm." Baba Yaga resisted the urge to fling him away when he grinned at her like a teacher excited that his pupil finally answered correctly.

"Exactly!" He slapped the tree with his hand and watched with joy as all the bark fell to the ground. "My little traveler friend had long since died by the time the Grimm brothers were spawned, and his family gave the book to the older Grimm when he was on one of his . . .fairytale adventures." Koschei's frown returned, his eyebrows lowering over his eyes in a look of affront. "Do you know those nosy humans never once came to talk to me? They talked to almost every other magical creature!"

"I can only assume it's because they had heard about your wonderful personality." Sarcasm dripped off of Baba Yaga's words, though Koschei failed to hear it.

"See, admitting how wonderful I am is the first step towards accepting your love for me." He winked at her.

She didn't deem that with a response. "And then Jakob found the amulets and hid them."

"All except for one, which the phoenix pried out of his cold, dead fingers." Koschei finished with a flamboyant flourish. "And that, my dear, is how your friend found out about the amulets."

"And how do you know all of that?" Baba Yaga casually tossed the egg up into the air, catching Koschei's undivided attention once more. Most magical beings liked to keep some abilities a secret as their own way of making sure to surprise any potential enemies, and the sorcerer wasn't an exception. She needed to make sure that Koschei wasn't just making all of this up.

The sorcerer's grin was shaky as his eyes followed the egg. Up and down, up and down. "One of my many talents is The Sight. I can see things many other magical beings can't, especially when it involves my stuff. I've been following the book ever since I sold it." His eyes finally left the egg to meet her gaze. "Did you really think I would've been stupid enough to leave the book without some sort of supervision?"

"Yes." Baba Yaga caught the egg and let it sit in her palm. "Where's the book now?"

"Your friend has it. He took it when he killed the Grimm."

So, Demetri now knew everything. At least, all of the information stored in the book.

"Right, then." Baba Yaga said, and let go of the egg.

A strangled cry tore from Koschei's mouth as the egg shattered against the ground with a barely audible _crack_. As the yellow yolk spread out across the grass, he squeezed his eyes shut, his body tensing as he waited for the death that wasn't coming.

After a few seconds, he opened his eyes, saw that he was still alive, and glared at her. "That was evil."

Baba Yaga cackled, the sound echoing through the forest. "Yes, yes it was." She turned on her heel and began to make her way back to her hut.

"Wh- wait! Is that it?" She heard him call out behind her, but she didn't turn around or stop, just kept walking.

Thanks to his longer legs, Koschei caught up to her in a matter of seconds. "So, what are you going to do now?" His voice was casual as he matched her steps, every now and then stepping around the trees that she purposefully maneuvered him in front of. "If you're planning on going against Demetri, you could always use a bodyguard, and this toned body is perfect for bodyguarding."

Baba Yaga's laugh was coarse and harsh. "Oh, dear Koschei," She stared at him from the corner of her eyes. "I'm not going to fight. Just bring some information to a certain group of people."

"Well, I can always help with that!" Koschei replied eagerly as they stepped into the burnt clearing.

She stopped and turned towards him, one eyebrow raised. "You never struck me as the heroic type, more of the save-your-own-skin kind of sniveling coward."

Koschei grinned, peppering his voice with the honey sweet tone he knew she despised. "I'll do anything for you."

The witch cocked her head to the side. As annoying as he was, Koschei was a very powerful sorcerer, and would no doubt be helpful should the time come. But, for right now, he needed to leave her presence. "The only way you could help is if you stay away." Baba Yaga flicked her hand, shooting a wave of sparks at the sorcerer before turning away from him, barely hearing his shout as he ducked.

A smile spread across her face when her eyes landed on her house, whole and complete, waiting patiently for her in the middle of the blackened circle of earth. The three floating hands had positioned themselves in front of the door and were currently in an intense game of rock-paper-scissors.

With a snap of her fingers, the hands disappeared. The Russian Witch made her way to the hut, leaving Koschei at the edge of the clearing.

"I'll be here, whenever you need me." The sorcerer's voice followed her as she stepped up to her door. "Just give me a call, and I'll come running, Lapushka."

Baba Yaga looked over her shoulder, her eyes finding him half-hidden in the shadows that surrounded the clearing. "Call me that again, and I'll deep fry you."

She could just make out the smile that stretched his lips. "I love it when you talk dirty."

The door opened without her having to touch the wood. She stepped into her hut, the door slamming shut behind her. The witch's gaze traveled around the room, taking in the rug, the shelf full of books and jars. Everything was in its place, just as if nothing had ever happened, which meant her preservation spell worked just fine.

She took a deep breath through her long nose, a grin curling her lips, before she crossed the room, sending a pile of documents to the tabletop with a wave of one hand and lighting a candle with a flick of the other. She bent over the old papers, the musky scent of the pages filling her nose, as her eyes easily deciphered the almost illegible script that covered the parchment.

She needed to review all of the knowledge she had about the amulets. Their strengths, weaknesses, everything. Then she would go to the Grimms, and watch her entertainment begin.

* * *

><p>*Translations:<p>

"What is above you, infant?" = "What's up, babe?"

Lapushka= Sweetie, darling, sweetheart.


End file.
